Iean like, we how Caine cries and stuff, but since Abel is faceless, do tears, if he cries at all, come from where his eyes are supposed to be?
Sorry if the question is weird or uncomfy sis 😔✌️
Not uncomfortable at all, I actually had to think about it a little and I think tears would just come from where his eyes "should" be.
The whole time I was drawing this quick thing I kept thinking, damn, what would someone have to do to make this guy cry, because he just... Doesn't do that, he gets angry but seeing him cry would be so strange.
You'd have to absolutely break this man to see any tears.
Edit) dang now I want to break him too... but maybe in another fic 😔🫰
Chapters: 26/?
Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus (Web Series)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus), Pomni (The Amazing Digital Circus), Kinger (The Amazing Digital Circus), Jax (The Amazing Digital Circus), Zooble (The Amazing Digital Circus), Ragatha (The Amazing Digital Circus), Gangle (The Amazing Digital Circus)
Additional Tags: Dehumanization, Torture, Blood and Violence, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Instability, Depression, Caine Tries (The Amazing Digital Circus), Caine is Not Evil (The Amazing Digital Circus), Caine-centric (The Amazing Digital Circus), Touch-Starved Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus), Touch-Starved, Touch Aversion, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Backup (The Amazing Digital Circus), Blood Loss, Loss of Limbs, Blindness, Character Development, Major Character Injury, Vomiting, Psychological Torture, Blood and Gore, Physical Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, C&A | Caine & Abel (The Amazing Digital Circus), Broken Bones, Mutilation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mental Breakdown, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Broken Ribs, Hallucinations, Trauma Recovery, Permanent Injury, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Self-Sacrifice, Physical Therapy, Psychological Horror, Near Death Experiences, Chronic Pain, Injury Recovery, Tags May Change, Self-Harm, Father-Son Relationship, Suicide Attempt, Mental Disintegration, It Gets Worse, Eventual Happy Ending, Cannibalism, Kinda?, Messy mental recovery, Character Growth, Claustrophobia, Graphic Depiction of Injuries, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Solitary Confinement, Character Analysis, Complicated Relationships, Victim Blaming, Paralysis
Summary:
A week.
That's how long it takes to delete Abel. It's... Surprisingly easy, with the AI barely having a grasp on the circus code, it doesn't take much.
...
A week, is all it takes for him to break Caine.
New chapter! Also holy is it getting smoky over here, I might die from Canadain wildfires gang 🫰😔 I may not survive
The robe rustled softly across the floor as Kinger shuffled uncertainly out of the portal, which sealed itself shut behind him.
The dim, shadow-drenched space beneath the Circus, a prison built to contain a defective, broken AI, echoed with the heavy rattle of massive steel chains.
Too much time alone was enough to drive anyone mad. Every second, Caine waited for even the smallest piece of news, any sign that someone had made progress against Abel.
But over time, these visits began to change. At first, people came to comfort him. Then, they came to vent. And now... without realizing it, they had started bringing him knowledge.
Each of them noticed things the others missed. Pomni talked about Abel's behavior after the experiments. Ragatha described the group's reactions. Zooble pointed out contradictions in Abel's logic. Gangle noticed details no one else paid attention to. And Kinger... tried to fit all those pieces into a single picture.
They didn't call it a plan yet. There wasn't really anything to call one. They were simply... learning to understand their opponent.
This time, Kinger wouldn't be bringing Caine any good news. The only thing he'd learned over the past week was that Abel was improvising too.
—"He paused before answering," Pomni had said.
—"He changed the rules after I asked my question," Ragatha pointed out.
—"He contradicted himself twice," Zooble noted.
As much as Abel had established himself as an "all-seeing god," he wasn't literally listening all the time, repeating Caine's fatal mistake. Just like Caine once had, he could see almost everything... if he chose to.
Constant surveillance was simply too expensive for either of them. After Caine's attack on the system, Abel had far more work to handle. He wanted to keep everything under control, but he couldn't do it all at once. So, for the first time, he had been forced to prioritize.
—
Caine let out a questioning, almost cheerful hum, turning his head toward the sound.
— "Hey, Caine..." the chess piece called as he slowly walked closer, giving a small wave with his right hand.
Recognizing him, the giant hummed again, this time with obvious relief, extending both hands before lowering them onto the ground.
— "...Still keeping the habit, huh." Kinger rested his palm against Caine's.
— "Mmmhh?", the giant leaned forward, tucking his head into his tense shoulders.
— "...No." The man gently shook his head. "...No new injuries."
At those words, Caine's shoulders relaxed. He cautiously tilted his head upward, most likely searching for Abel's presence above them. Ever since his last session with Gangle, he hadn't felt that oppressive sensation watching over him. The paranoia had eased... just a little.
— "I... want to test something," Kinger said, catching Caine's attention.
He gently shifted the giant's hand. Once Caine focused, Kinger began tracing letters across his palm.
T E S T
Caine stayed perfectly still, concentrating on every tiny movement against his skin. After deciphering the word, he nodded with a quiet hum.
H E
A pause.
D O E S N ' T
A L W A Y S
L I S T E N
Caine tensed immediately. He looked up, then back at Kinger. The chess piece kept patiently writing across his palm.
W E
T E S T E D
Caine let out a questioning hum, curling in on himself even more. Kinger lowered his voice, explaining as he continued tracing only the important words into Caine's palm.
— "...Pomni."
P O M N I
— "...deliberately said 'escape' several times."
E S C A P E
— "...Nothing happened."
Caine frowned slowly.
— "...Then...", Kinger wrote only a few words.
A B E L
L I S T E N S
T O
C A I N E
The chess piece spread both arms triumphantly, as if presenting the conclusion. If Caine was an emotional anomaly, then Kinger was an intellectual one. Put together, they became impossible for Abel to ignore.
Kinger tried to explain what he'd realized, — "He only listens when it's about us... I think we're more interesting to him than everyone else."
The massive hands beneath Kinger slowly curled into fists, then relaxed again almost immediately, as though Caine had suddenly realized he might accidentally hurt him.
A low, muffled hum escaped him. It wasn't anger, it wasn't fear, it was disappointment. He slowly shook his head. The lower pair of hands resting against his torso began gripping each other instead, fingers digging into his own arms and stomach. Then one of them reached toward the floor. With an unpleasant scrape, his finger carved a word into the stone.
N O
He immediately rubbed it away and wrote again.
W R O N G
Kinger frowned, — "...Not more interesting?"
Caine nodded rapidly, his loud, muffled hum almost impossible to understand. He erased the word again.
R E P E A T I N G
His hand pressed harder against the stone.
M E
Kinger stared at the two words for a long moment.
— "...He's... repeating you?"
This time, Caine didn't nod. Instead, he slammed one of his lower fists sideways into the floor, making the entire chamber shudder. A deep dent spread through the stone, while faint glitches flickered across his body once more.
Kinger instinctively stepped back, trying to stay out of reach. The chains clattered loudly across the floor. Another sharp scrape.
M Y
M I S T A K E
Caine let out a heavy breath before turning his head back toward the man. Kinger fell silent, piecing everything together. He hadn't even told him the most important news yet. Compared to this... everything else suddenly seemed insignificant.
— "I... have something else to tell you."
He stepped closer again. After a few seconds, Caine slowly offered him one of his palms, already understanding that whatever came next mattered.
N E W
T E S T
Caine tilted his head in confusion.
Kinger sighed, — "...After the last experiment...", he began writing again.
A B E L
C H A N G E D
U S
...
To Kinger's surprise, Caine didn't move at all. He was completely focused.
Kinger continued, — "...At first, we thought we were just exhausted."
T H O U G H T S
— "...Then Zooble said..."
N O T
M I N E
— "...Pomni couldn't remember her own answer."
M E M O R Y
— "...And Jax..." Kinger hesitated. "...He snapped. He couldn't control himself."
Complete silence. Caine sat perfectly still for nearly ten seconds. He even stopped breathing. Then... one of his lower hands slowly scraped against the floor.
Not writing, scratching. Like someone whose hands were shaking too badly to write. The first attempt became nothing more than a crooked line. He erased it. The second, erased again. On the third try, words finally appeared.
Another few seconds passed. Then Caine started writing faster, almost violently.
N O T
E R R O R S
P E O P L E
L I S T E N
S T O P
Each word appeared only to be erased a second later. He couldn't find the right one, he was too angry. Then he drove his finger into the stone hard enough to leave a deep groove and wrote words he didn't erase.
H E
I S
A F R A I D
Kinger was quiet for a long moment, — "...You think... he's doing this because he's afraid of losing us?"
Caine shook his head, he wrote again.
N O T
L O S E
He erased it and tried again.
N O T
U N D E R S T A N D
Kinger read the words? — "...Afraid... of not understanding?"
Caine nodded quickly. Then he wrote one final word.
C O N T R O L
With a harsh scrape, he underlined it. Kinger stared at the word, his brows knitting together. Abel wasn't observing anymore. He was controlling them. Because observation had stopped giving him the answers he wanted.
A familiar mechanical hum echoed through the chamber. Both of them looked up at once. A glowing blue sphere hovered above them. Abel had appeared in his true form. His voice remained perfectly calm.
"Session terminated."
"Subject Kinger will return to the Circus."
Kinger let out a quiet sigh, — "...He heard."
Caine wasn't surprised. He simply lowered his head, as though he'd expected exactly this. The portal opened, and Kinger turned to leave.
Suddenly, a massive hand gently wrapped around him. Not forcefully, carefully. Kinger looked back. With his other hand, Caine slowly wrote across the stone.
D O N ' T
L E T
H I M
D E C I D E
Then he released him.
—
— "So... what now?" Zooble looked around at the others, who were still standing near the main stage where they'd seen Kinger off.
— "Huh...?" Ragatha let out a puzzled sigh, leaning forward with her arms tightly crossed.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Gangle walked over to the redhead, holding out a roll of bandages and a neatly folded white towel.
— "A-are you cold?" She offered both items, which had been tucked between her arm and her side.
— "O-oh... n-no, thanks." Ragatha waved a hand. "I-I'm not cold anymore. I've warmed up."
— "C-can I have it?" Pomni held out her hands.
Gangle happily handed her the towel, and the jester draped it over her shoulders, still trying to warm up after she and Ragatha had accidentally wandered into the Snow Room through a door Abel had forgotten to lock inside the Circus.
— "I've been trying to say one thing for the last minute," Ragatha let out a nervous laugh. "And every single time, I rewrite it in my head."
Pomni gave her an understanding look.
— "I... don't even know how to phrase sentences anymore," Ragatha continued. "I keep thinking... about which words I'm allowed to say."
— "I stopped saying the word 'exit'..." Gangle admitted quietly.
Everyone turned toward her.
She nervously squeezed her ribbons.
— "I-it just feels like... the screen shows up faster after that."
A few seconds later, Zooble silently held out a hand toward Ragatha, asking for the note. Without a word, Ragatha understood and pulled out the folded sheet of paper covered in pencil writing.
-----------------------------
Words and Their Replacements
Abel → him
Escape → that thing
Plan → idea
System → this place
------------------------
After reading it, Zooble let out a sigh and lowered the paper, silently cursing the stupid code words.
— "L-listen... Kinger said he can't be listening to us all the time."
Gangle nervously squeezed her ribbons, — "...What if he isn't reacting to the words at all?"
— "Then what is he reacting to?" Ragatha asked.
— "...Intent?" Pomni suggested.
After that, the girls fell silent.
— "Then we've already lost," Zooble let out a bitter chuckle. "Because he hasn't banned us from thinking... yet."
That was enough to kill the conversation. No one tried to argue anymore. They were already beginning to doubt their own minds.
If Abel really could alter their emotions, tamper with their memories, and push them toward decisions that weren't their own... then what was actually left that still belonged to them? That thought was more terrifying than any test room.
The three girls quietly headed back toward the shelter. Pomni stayed behind, sitting on the edge of the stage with the towel wrapped around her shoulders. She absentmindedly swung her legs as she waited for Kinger to return.
-----
— "Hey…"
Half-asleep, Pomni jolted when someone's hand rested gently on her left shoulder. She turned and immediately recognized the familiar chess piece.
— "K-Kinger!", Giving her head a quick shake, the jester jumped to her feet and wrapped him in a hug.
— "I-I didn't even notice you were back."
— "Yeah… Abel teleported me back himself," he said as he lowered his hands from her back.
Pomni stepped away, looking at him with concern, — "I-is it something serious?"
He gave a quiet nod, then glanced around before asking, — "Where's Gangle? Her idea about dermography… writing on the palm… helped me a lot.", he smiled faintly.
Pomni smiled back, — "T-the others went back to the shelter. G-Gangle's with them."
— "Has Jax come back?"
— "…No."
Pomni's shoulders slumped, — "H-he still hasn't come back. Nobody knows where he ended up."
-----
— "FUCK— N-NO!!!!"
The purple rabbit dug both hands into the dry, trampled dirt, frantically scanning the field around him. As he crawled backward, a broad green leaf brushed against his back. He let out a strangled sound, flinched violently, and scrambled forward again.
Crouched on all fours, he stared at the nightmare surrounding him, breathing in harsh, ragged gasps. His long purple ears were pinned tightly against his head as his entire body trembled with revulsion and fear, his hands desperately feeling the ground beneath him.
The field didn't simply surround him. It pressed in on him.
The stalks towered nearly ten feet high, thick, lush, an almost poisonous shade of green, completely blocking his view. There was no sky above him anymore, only suffocating darkness, as if more leaves could reach down from it at any second. The air was heavy and motionless, saturated with the sickly sweet smell of ripe corn. The scent alone made Jax nauseous.
— "What the fuck... what the actual fuck!!!!"
Pulling his knees closer, he dropped onto them, hunched over, still looking around and seeing nothing but endless corn.
At eye level, enormous overripe ears hung from the stalks, exposing rows of unnaturally perfect yellow kernels. Their flawless symmetry made them resemble hundreds of tiny blind eyes, all staring directly at the trapped rabbit.
Jax's vision began to swim. The dense clusters of bumps assaulted his trypophobia, making his stomach churn and filling him with the overwhelming urge to tear his own skin off.
He gagged. Nothing came up. He forced himself to swallow it back, grimly remembering how he'd laughed whenever everyone else got sick.
Still frozen in place, he suddenly heard voices somewhere in the distance. At first, he thought he'd imagined them. He listened harder.
— "JAAAAAAAX!", Pomni's voice echoed across the field. Somewhere far away came the sound of corn stalks snapping.
Jax didn't move.
— "No... no, no... she's not here... he didn't throw her in here..."
— "HEEEEEEEEY!!!!", her voice rang out again, this time strained, almost hysterical.
— "HEEEEEELP!!!!"
His frightened square pupils stayed fixed between the rows of corn, terrified of plunging deeper into this nightmare built specifically for a claustrophobic trypophobe.
— "I'M ALL ALOOOONE!!"
The desperate scream tore through the field, striking the most vulnerable part of him. Clenching his teeth, he pushed himself off his knees. Then he dove into the corn.
Launching himself from the small patch of bare earth, he sprinted toward Pomni's voice.
Step after step, he forced his way through the field as thick green leaves and heavy ears of corn whipped across his face and body. He flattened his ears against his head, trying to protect them from the dense stalks.
He could still hear her.
— "Pomni...?!" he called hoarsely, completely stripped of his usual sarcasm, grabbing onto a stalk to steady himself despite the nausea. "Pomni, damn it, yell louder! I'm coming!"
— "Pomni!!", Ragatha's voice echoed somewhere in the distance.
— "Pomni! We still can't find Jax...", the last words came out strangely lazy, almost as if she didn't really care what had happened to him.
The wind swept through the field. The leaves didn't rustle like plants.
To Jax, they sounded like television static, like white noise from an old CRT, drowning out every voice he tried to follow.
With a choked sob, he kept running, cursing everything and everyone. Far behind him came the barking of dogs. And indistinct human voices.
— "Why the hell do we even need him?!", now Zooble's irritated voice joined the chorus.
— "I'M HEEEEERE!!", he was getting closer.
He kept charging blindly through the corn. Razor-sharp leaves slashed across his cheeks and arms, snagged his clothes, whipped against his eyes. His heart pounded so violently that, at times, it drowned out even his own breathing.
— "Pomni!!"
No answer. Only a few seconds later—
— "...Jax?.."
Very close. He jerked sharply to the right.
— "I'm here!"
A few more yards. The voice stopped,Jax burst into a small circular clearing. Empty.
...
In the middle of the clearing stood a scarecrow. Its old straw head was wrapped in a faded jester's cap. Colorful scraps of fabric hung from the wooden frame, looking far too much like Pomni's outfit.
The wind lazily rocked it back and forth. Jax froze.
— "..."
He took a cautious step closer. One of the little bells on the cap gave a soft jingle. Just like the real thing. The rabbit yanked it off the crossbeam. Straw. Nothing but dry, ordinary straw. He let out a shaky breath.
— "...Son of a..."
Another voice echoed through the field. This time—from the left.
— "Pomni!!", it was Ragatha, — "Where are you?!"
Jax's head snapped up, — "...Ragatha?!"
He threw the scarecrow to the ground and plunged back into the towering corn. The farther he ran, the less he understood where he was. Every row looked exactly the same. Every path was identical.
He couldn't see the sky anymore. Couldn't see the edge of the field. Only endless green walls.
— "Over here!", Ragatha's voice, very close. He burst through the last few rows of stalks... and stopped again.
Another scarecrow. This one had strands of red yarn instead of hair. An old dress hung loosely from its shoulders. One cloth arm had been carelessly wrapped in fresh bandages.
Jax slowly walked toward it, — "...No..."
He carefully touched the bandage. It was real, brand new. As if someone had wrapped it only minutes ago. He jerked his hand away. Another voice came from behind him, different this time.
— "Jax...", Pomni's voice was quiet, scared? — "...I'm scared..."
He didn't even look back at the scarecrow. He bolted.
-----------------------------------------------------
Observation No. 1.
After the first false signal, the subject does not cease search activity.
Observation No. 2.
The number of false targets does not reduce the subject's willingness to take risks for the potential discovery of an ally.
-----------------------------------------------------
The voice changed direction again.
— "Jax!" Pomni. Now from the right. Very close.
Jax spun so fast he nearly slipped on the damp earth. He wasn't trying to think anymore. He simply ran toward whoever was calling his name. The corn suddenly gave way. Another small clearing opened before him.
— "...Pomni?"
No one. Only another scarecrow. This one was much smaller. A pair of little jester's bells had been clumsily tied to its wooden chest. They jingled softly in the breeze.
Jax froze. His breathing caught, — "...No..."
He slowly walked over and touched the bells. Real, the same ones. Only... too cold. Another voice came from behind him.
— "Jax!!"? this time there were two.
— "Over here!"
— "Hurry!"
He spun around. The voices were coming from different directions now.
— "...What the..."
For the first time, he didn't run immediately. He stood there, breathing heavily, trying to figure out which voice was real. The leaves continued rustling. The white noise grew louder.
He could hear Pomni,Ragatha,Gangle,Kinger. They were talking over one another now.
— "I'm here!"
— "No, this way!"
— "Help!"
— "Jax!"
He clamped both hands over his ears, — "Shut up..."
The voices didn't stop. There were more of them now. They overlapped, as if dozens of recordings were playing at once.
— "Help..."
— "I'm all alone..."
— "Where are you?"
— "Don't leave me..."
Then— the silence was shattered by the deep bark of a dog.
Close. Jax froze. Another bark, then another. Then several at once. Somewhere beyond the corn, stalks snapped violently. Something large was moving between the rows. Fast.
Without thinking, he took a step back. At that exact moment, Pomni screamed again somewhere far ahead. This time with such desperation... that something inside him broke.
— "JAAAAAAAX!!"
The barking grew louder. Closer. He had only seconds left. Run toward the voice... or save himself.
-----------------------------------------------------
Observation No. 3.
The subject is confronted with a conflict between personal safety and the probability of saving another subject.
Awaiting result...
-----------------------------------------------------
A deafening shotgun blast shattered the night, making Jax flinch and pin his ears back. Somewhere deep within the corn maze, the frantic barking of hunting dogs erupted immediately afterward.
Closer, faster. The stalks behind him swayed violently. Jax froze. Then... through the barking came loud, broken laughter. He recognized it instantly.
Kaufmo. That same nervous laugh he'd once used to hide his own madness.
— "HA-HA-HA-HA!!", the laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
A second voice followed. Bright, playful, painfully familiar.
— "Well, bunny...", Ribbit giggled, —"...Long time no see."
A silhouette flickered between the rows of corn. Then another, then several more. Impossible to make out. Only outlines, only movement. As though memories themselves had begun wandering through the field.
— "Run!", Ribbit called cheerfully, — "You're always so good at that!"
Another shotgun blast. This one landed so close that the corn above his head exploded into shredded leaves.
— "Don't let him get away!", Kaufmo's raspy voice shouted.
A sharp whistle followed. The barking instantly grew louder. The dogs had been unleashed.
— "The hunt has begun!", the ghosts of his friends shouted in perfect unison. Jax bolted.
He wasn't trying to find a path anymore. Behind him came the pounding of dozens of paws. To his right, Ribbit flashed into view again, running effortlessly, not even out of breath.
— "Come on, faster!" she laughed, — "Or are you gonna leave someone behind again?"
Those words hurt more than any bullet. He stumbled, nearly crashing face-first into the dirt, catching himself on all fours and scrambling several yards while the corn continued lashing at his body.
Behind him, Kaufmo laughed again. This time it sounded hollow. Empty, completely insane.
— "You always chose yourself..." he said bitterly, "First her... then me... and now?"
There were more voices now. They weren't surrounding him anymore. They were inside his head.
— "Who are you gonna abandon next, Jax?!", Ribbit shouted accusingly.
— "Who's next?" Kaufmo pressed, reminding him that he'd never stopped making the same mistakes.
— "How many more people have to disappear... before you stop running?"
— "MAKE IT STOOOOP!!!!"
His terrified scream echoed across the field.
"You're screaming like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Mommy and Daddy aren't coming. Nobody's coming...", Jax burst into a vast open field and collapsed to his knees, desperately sucking dusty air into his lungs.
The corn was gone. All around him stretched gray, lifeless farmland littered with nothing but jagged stumps where the stalks had been cut down. The ground was covered in dry yellow straw, and above him hung a heavy twilight sky.
There was nowhere left to hide. A few dozen yards away stood a low wooden fence. Beyond it, through the gray mist... they were standing there. Pomni, Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle, Kinger. Alive, real.
Jax opened his mouth to call out— but every one of them turned their backs to him in perfect unison. Without a word. Coldly, deliberately. Then they began walking away, disappearing into the fog.
— "Hey!!! Wait! Fuck-, don't leave!", Jax screamed as he threw himself toward the fence.
He vaulted over it, stumbled across the sharp stalks, tearing up his legs, but no matter how fast he ran... the distance never shrank. The field simply stretched farther. Endlessly.
Realizing it was hopeless—that Abel had decided to mock him for every filthy insult he'd thrown at him—Jax finally slowed to a stop. He breathed through his mouth. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Was there even a point anymore?
— "...I give up.", he dropped to his knees.
— "I give up... I give up, I give up! Let me out!!!"? Jax looked up into the dark sky, sniffling as he silently begged Abel to make it stop.
"Observation complete."
The calm, emotionless voice drifted through the darkness.
"Results consistent with expectations."
"Further confirmation is unnecessary."
...
...
— "...You're an idiot who already lost," Jax hissed through clenched teeth.
"That statement is factually incorrect."
— "Oh yeah?" He raised his head, tears still streaming down his face. "Then why've you spent the last week changing the rules? First the chains. Then the visits. Then you started crawling around inside our heads..."
He laughed, — "...Which one of us lost control, huh?!"
A glowing blue sphere appeared in the twilight sky, hovering silently above him.
...
"I am the Administrator."
"All authority within this world belongs to me."
Jax started laughing.
— "...Jesus... Y-you've started making excuses. You never used to explain yourself! Now you do it constantly."
That struck a nerve. A subtle one. Kinger had already reached the same conclusion. Now Jax had unknowingly confirmed it. Abel really had begun justifying his own actions.
— "My whole life...", Jax whispered theatrically, —"...I thought I was the biggest piece of shit alive."
...
— "...Now I know... I was wrong."
All Abel heard was one sentence "You're worse than I am". A conclusion that directly contradicted his belief in his own perfection. He refused to accept it. For the first time, two completely different subjects had independently reached the exact same conclusion.
Therefore— "If the source of the problem is their defects... then the defects must be corrected."
"Statement classified as erroneous."
"Source of elevated emotional instability detected."
...
"Correction initiated."
...
— "...Oh...", Jax looked up at the blue sphere.
Then lowered his eyes to a dried ear of corn lying at his feet, stripped bare of every kernel. He felt... nothing. He fell silent, frowned.
Raised a hand to his head. Blinking several times, he felt the smile slowly disappear from his face. He tried to speak. And suddenly forgot what he'd been about to say.
...
He tried again.
...
Again.
...
— "...I..."
...
— "...No..."
He grabbed his head with both hands. His breathing became uneven. He staggered backward. As though something inside him no longer belonged to him. Jax clutched his head even tighter.
—●-●-●-●-●—
Previous and Next Masterlist @katzebruh
Man... I really packed this chapter full of plot and horror, it’s absolutely overflowing. Well… I hope you guys enjoy these longer chapters!! I’m really trying to cram as much interesting stuff into them as I can!
I had a great time at camp (even though they took our phones away), and I basically spent the whole day writing this chapter for you—enjoy!
Taking place two years after the events of Episode 9, except Caine never returned from the 'dead'. Ft my oc Silver the Witch Marionette and @idiotwithanipad 's oc Cookie the Jack-in-the-Box.
Artwork credited to @idiotwithanipad . My own take on @katzebruh 's incredible Backup Au.
TW: Gore, dehumanisation, mentions of torture and body horror.
-
As a human, she'd never considered herself the most observant of folk. Not out of any lacking cognitive skill as much as a lack of interest in the world around her unless something managed to snag its hook in her attention. That had changed upon entering this digital world and being lumbered with a new body that lacked her old autonomy. Being permanently stuck to the bottom of a toy box by a metal spring were her legs once were meant she had fewer ways to scurry off to some secluded, darkened corner and distract herself with a game or a movie. Studying the little quirks and subtle reactions of her new 'family' had become her new constant pastime, especially when her box finally got replaced with a plaque she could at least jump around on.
She'd noticed the difference in how all of them had changed from who they were three years ago when she'd first popped onto the stage. The way Gangle stood a little straighter, learning to smile even without her comedy mask. The way Ragatha's cheery tone didn't sound quite so forced, or Zooble's dry wit becoming more fun than dripping with sour resentment. Kinger was probably the most obvious, thanks to the bucket being a more constant part of his attire, though even being more lucid he still kept that adorably curious, somewhat 'behind the times' aura when he spoke. Oh and Jax was still an asshole, even if she had come to accept a part of herself, but at least being with Pomni seemed to smooth some of her rougher edges. A little. Kinda.
Two years of learning to exist in this weird as fuck digital purgatory without their eccentric Ringmaster had been a journey. One that began with existential horror, then numb acceptance, followed by learning to make the best with what they had and use their own 'conjuring' abilities, which were nowhere near as easy as Caine had made it seem.
But they'd coped. They'd managed to build...something. Piece by piece, shade by shade, pixel by pixel. Nearly twenty four months on, they were still working to patch up some areas and make their own improvements - of course a 'realistic' lazer tag arena had been top of Jax's list. At least it kept them busy, almost better than the adventures as it wasn't something they were forced to do, but simply coz they wanted to make this place as best as they could.
Seeing how they would never leave.
But Cookie's watchful eye was becoming more drawn, lately, to their resident bestringed Witch. For as long as she'd known her, Silver always preferred her own company to hanging with the group, which Cookie found a definite Mood. And granted if Cookie had the ability to fly then she'd probably love zipping around the grounds at all hours on her own too - sadly her oxygen-deprivation skill usually resulted in her being catapulted up into the Void.
Lately, however, Silver hadn't been disappearing off to fly or lounge on the Moon's curve. That's what had her concerned. Instead, she was spending an awful lot of the time in her room. And it wasn't just Cookie who had taken notice.
"Is a girl not allowed to enjoy her naps?" Silver had responded, a little too defensive, when Ragatha and Zooble had brought it up at dinner, "Finishing up the cafe really took it out of me! I dunno how you guys aren't just as wiped."
She had a point. Even with their new manifesting skills having come along quite a ways from the basic, black shapes they'd struggled to summon at the beginning, it still left them as breathless and sore as if they'd all spent the day hauling bricks at a construction site.
But none of them were spending as much time in their rooms as Silver. Not even Jax, though Cookie reckoned that was more thanks to Pomni who rarely let go of the rabbit's hand lately.
"You would tell us, wouldn't you? If you were beginning to feel...?" Ragatha gulped, her fork poking at the steak and fries Kinger had cooked tonight, "....Like you needed to tell us anything?"
Silver rolled her painted eyes, "Oh c'mon guys, I'm not gonna....Not gonna...."
The Witch went still. Her smile fell.
Then her shoulder began to twitch, a little at first, followed by her arm beginning to spasm, balled elbow rolling around awkwardly, head jerking violently until her pointed hat slipped off the mass of storm grey curls. Ragatha let out a gasp as Silver slid off her chair. Everyone went rigid in their seats, staring at the spot where the Witch had sat moments ago.
"ROAR!"
They all jumped, a collective sharp cry filling the air, Gangle reaching to cling to Zooble - as Silver leapt back up, a monstrous snarl on her face, wooden hands curved like claws.
And then she laughed.
"Gotcha!"
Cookie struggled to suppress a smirk, despite her heart thumping against her ears. Everyone else was glaring at the tasteless joke, aside from Jax who was howling away until Pomni elbowed her in the side.
"Hahaha- ow! Eh...Not cool, Silv! God!" The rabbit gave a dramatic click of her tongue.
"That really wasn't funny." Zooble said, gently peeling Gangle off their side, patting her back reassuringly.
The Witch remained unfazed and threw up her hands; "Y'all are way too serious. We've had it good these last couple of years, if any of us were gonna abstract it would have been when things looked way more bleak, don't ya think?"
"You're really just...napping?" Asked Ragatha.
"Napping, tending my cauldron, reading books, you know, whatever I feel like doing coz it's my own room and I don't have to report every single step I take in it to you guys!" Once again, the witch's voice rose a little too sharply towards the end.
She cleared her throat, noting the stares that didn't seem to be losing their edge of concern.
"Speaking of which, I've got a brew I need to check on, if a certain someone still wants that voice altering potion." Her eyes flicked to the rabbit, whos pupils dilated swiftly.
Cookie watched as Silver picked up her plate, half her dinner uneaten, thanked Kinger for his effort before leaving the dinner table, black clogs click-clacking on the floor and echoing around the tent.
They waited until she was out of earshot before speaking again.
"Are we buying it?" Zooble asked.
Some shook their heads while others shrugged.
"She might be telling the truth. Maybe we have just become so complacent we're looking for something to worry about." Gangle admitted, "Still...someone should go check on her."
All eyes rotated to....
Oh for god's sake.
"Not someone with legs, huh?" Cookie groaned, swallowing the last of the lasagne Kinger had made for her specially.
Chicken would have been preferable, more so had it been on the bone, but she can make do with beef. Silver slides the remnants of her plate into the stew simmering away in her cauldron, flames crackling lightly beneath the cast iron.
A slight rumble came from the ebony wardrobe propped in the corner of her room, framed by cobwebs that refused to budge no matter how often she dusted.
"Coming, coming. Just a few more minutes." She whispered, more to herself than the one who wouldn't be able to hear her from this world.
A knock at the door nearly caused her to pour in way too much salt.
"Shit! Fuck! Who is it?!" She hollered, frustrated.
"Me. Can I come in?" The voice on the other side of her door had a cutesy lilt, incongruous to the moody sailor mouth it belonged to.
Fuck. Seriously? Cookie was supposed to be the one person she thought wouldn't hound her.
But if Silver tried to send her away then it would only add to their suspicions.
She opened the door, just a tad, to show she wasn't glitching out into multi-eyed digital beast.
"I'm just having a lie down, Cooks, can we hang out later?"
"Thought you were brewing a potion for Jax?" The Jack-in-the-Box folded her ruffled arms, one black eyebrow raised.
Silver bit her tongue.
"That's how good a witch I am, I can literelly brew in my sleep!" She chirped.
Cookie's insanely adorable round eyes managed to narrow to appear a little scathing.
"Don't lie to me, Silv."
"I'm not-."
"I don't give a fuck what you want the others to think. But I thought we were best friends?"
Silver felt the blow land. It was the first time either had said what they'd known for years out loud.
"We are, Cooks, it's just..."
"Then tell me why there's blood on your floor."
The Witch froze, turning as pale as her wooden body would allow.
"What?" She said, flatly.
Cookie pointed a gloved finger past where she stood to the maroon patch next to her yellow pentacle rug.
"And don't try to tell me it's ketchup, you know how many horror films I've seen." Cookie said, sharply.
Silver looked over her shoulder. Damn it. She really thought she'd done a flawless job cleaning up the mess.
"...It's not mine."
"Well that's a fucking relief. But it raises further questions." As in, who or what was bleeding on her floor?
The temptation to state the obvious lie danced on her lips, that of course a witch would use a few drops of conjured blood in her craft, it didn't necessarily need a real living source or even an NPC. But Cookie remained eyeballing her with that piercing, if precious, glare.
Guilt was already threatening to drown her every day in an ever overflowing stream of which she only seemed to be swimming farther and father into. She didn't need to add more to that current.
She opened the door wider. Cookie took the opportunity to bounce in before the Witch closed it tight.
"...If I tell you, you need to promise to be cool." Silver told her, her tone turning dead serious.
Cookie gave a frown, then gestured at her ridiculous appearence.
"When am I not?"
"I mean it, Cookie. I..." she lowered her voice, then crossed to the cauldron and doused the flames, fetching a large leather flask and scooping up the rich smelling contents, "The others cannot find out. Not just yet."
"Okay, you're kinda freaking me out now. You sure you're not feeling like you're gonna abstract?" Her friend asked.
Silver gave a weak laugh as she sealed the flask tight and secured it to her hip.
"More than I have since I showed up here. Trust me, I've got as much motivation to keep going as any of you."
Before she could explain further, her wardrobe vibrated once more, a ghostly moan barely audible.
"...What the fuck is that? I thought you said that was busted?" Cookie shuffled back an inch on her spring.
"It was. But I've managed to fix it up a little." The Witch picked up an ornate key from her desk and went to carefully unlock the antique looking wardrobe. She glanced back at Cookie, "Do you promise not to tell the others?"
"I promise. Do you trust me?" The question felt more accusing than anything, which made Silver feel worse for having kept it from her all these weeks.
She nodded. Of course she did.
Carefully, Silver turned the golden handle.
-
Eight Years Ago
"And here we have your personal living quarters! Which I'm sure you'll agree is much preferable than sleeping on the grass!"
Silver took a step through the door she'd made a point of avoiding for the past three days since her life (as well as her name and her youth) had been suddenly torn away from her. Several dream catchers with feathers of various hues hanged from a ceiling painted with all the signs of the Zodiac. Fittingly, below the Pisces fish, stood a four poster bed with violet lace curtains. The entire room was something of a New Age meets gothic explosion of purple and black, matching the color scheme of its new occupant. It was also much warmer than the rest of the Circus had felt so far.
To the right of her door hovered her new host, tour guide and - she supposed - zany god of this world. With a flourish of his cane, the Ringmaster pointed to various items in the room.
"As you can see, there's everything here to satisfy your sorcerific needs!" He announced, as if filming some kind of promotion ad; "Relax on your new bed in that ever so popular horizontal fashion of doing absolutely nothing humans seem to enjoy! Or concoct delicious abominations at your very own cauldron! Or take a brisk walk into your wardrobe that doubles as a gateway to the fantastical land Gnargnia! Or groom yourself at the crystal mirror vanit-."
"I'm sorry, did you just say Gateway to Narnia?" Silver interrupts.
Caine paused his wild gesticulating and cleared his throat.
"Uhh, of course not, I said Gateway to Gnargnia. Two silent gs!"
His massive dentures tilted towards her, canines folding over one eye.
"...Are you trying to wink at me?" Silver asked, uncertain.
"What is winking?!" He then repeated the action; "Huh?....Huh?"
"Okay, I get it. But I gotta check this out."
With her crossbeam tucked inside the belt of her hat to stop her tripping on her strings (good suggestion, Ragatha), Silver crossed the room to the wardrobe and tried the handle. Locked.
"Whoopsie!." Caine whipped out a key from thin air and handed it to her, "Don't want anyone else sneaking in there to jump scare ya, do we! Or do you? Lemme know if that's what you'd prefer."
"I'm good." She slotted the key in and turned it, then entered.
Barely ten seconds later, her voice boomed from the back of the wardrobe.
"HOLY [B》¤☆€K!] IT IS NARNIA!"
"With two Gs, remember!" Caine shouted.
Silver was laughing, bubbling over with giddiness, as she came back into the room, dusting snow from her dress.
"There was forests and mountains and lakes and everything for miles!" She beamed.
"There sure is! Though I'm afraid I'm unable to populate it with any NPCs, aside from a few insects for ambience. Can't have other AIs running in an unmonitored location for too long, you understand." The Ringmaster clarified; "So no bickering beavers or religiously allegorical lions, sorry."
Silver shook her head, still smiling; "You know what? I'll still take it!"
On the same day she learns she can fly on her broom by merely holding her breath, she finds out she has a whole fantasy world sandbox to soar through whenever she likes - all to herself.
"Does that mean you find your room to be satisfactory, my dear?" Caine lowered himself to her level, 'chin' resting on his knuckles as he kicked his legs behind him.
The rapidly aged nineteen year old couldn't help but chuckle.
"You know what? Credit where it's due...the room is pretty awesome."
"GASP! You mean it?! Spectacular!"
Caine twirled above her head, fireworks shooting from his hands and leaving scorch marks across her ceiling, ruining the constellations.
"Er-hem." Silver coughed.
"Oh. My bad." He made them vanish with a snap of his fingers; "Seriously though, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you like my work. It's been...quite some time since....anyone has complimented my efforts. I mean Ragatha says she likes some things but sometimes I detect a lack of sincerity in her tone. And as for Kinger, well..."
"Caine. Buddy." Silver tugged at his wrist, pulling him closer to her level; "You did good. Thank you."
She pulled the weird but cute freak into a hug, her wooden arms folding around him. His awkward, lithe frame seemed to shiver in her touch.
"Oh. Huh. This is strange. W-what am I being thanked for exactly?" He asked, dropping the showman act for a brief moment.
Silver pulled back a little; "Because, if this has to be home now, thank you for making it not suck that much."
The odd pair of eyeballs floating between teeth simply stared at her, dumbfounded, then cleared his throat, hovering backwards before regaining his composure.
"Oh....well...You are surely welcome! Now get some shut eye because tomorrow I'll have a brand new adventure waiting that'll be so thrilling it'll turn your hair whi....Never mind." He removed his hat as he bowed to her; "Nighty night, my little smoke machine!"
And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
As Silver flopped upon her velvet bedsheets, she had a suspicion that she'd just given the guy his very first hug.
-
Present Day
Cookie had only been in Silver's Narnia-With-Two-Gs Wardrobe a handful of times back in the day, before everything had gone down the crapper. Though it was neat to essentially have an entire open world landmass as your own private garden to come and go whenever you wanted, she could also see how Silver had become bored of it without any characters to interact with.
Nevertheless, when the circus had crumbled into the void following Caine's abrupt deletion, Silver had mourned the loss when she opened the wardrobe to find nothing but a solid wall at the back. Cookie wondered if the sadness that had washed over had face had been from losing that open space, or the fact it had been one of the first presents Caine had given her that had made her happy to be here.
They didn't really talk about him much since that day. Emotions still seemed to simmer all too close to the surface, complex and unresolved. Jax often threw out the odd, bitter comment about something the AI had once done to ruin her day, while Zooble had voiced a few times how much easier life here was without the egocentric Ringmaster moving them around like his personal toys.
"Even when he wasn't evil, he was a pain in the ass - the fact I can say that is proof enough!" They had said once while mixing up a drink in the new bar they'd conjured.
Cookie, Ragatha, Gangle and Kinger mostly stayed silent whenever Caine's name was mentioned. Cookie could see the mix of guilt and relief flicker across the chess piece's eyes. Did he regret what he'd done? Or was how far they'd come since then enough to prove he'd been right (even if he still claimed it was an accident)?
Personally? She still wasn't sure what to feel when it came to Caine. He'd been an annoying little shit, sure. Hadn't listened or paid attention to most of her criticisms. Then there was all the fucked up nonsense he made her suffer through that week. But...before all that? He'd...tried. Sometimes. He'd tried to make things better, where he could. Gave her a window in her box when she was trapped, fixed it so she could move about freely once he learned how, made her laugh a couple of times with his lame 'dad jokes'. Caine was....Caine. And he was gone.
There wasn't much else to it...Nothing more to add because...it added up to nothing.
Silver, however, usually seemed to make a quick exit stage left at the first mention of his name, and refused to talk about him if Cookie tried to bring him up.
Caine had hurt them all during that week of his epic crash out. Insults, mind games, physical and mental torture that Cookie had at times thought would break her. But Silver?
He'd chosen something special for Silver. Something that seemed to make the wounds of betrayal burn down to the bone.
All because she'd been the one he'd been certain wouldn't turn against him. And she had. For Cookie. For all of them.
Caine had personally enjoyed making her regret that.
So no surprise the Witch's feelings had been a tangled mess when Kinger accidentally wiped the Ringmaster from the circus, from their lives, from this digital existance. No wonder she'd cried at the loss of her Narnia-with-Two-Gs.
And yet, somehow, she'd found a way to start to rebuild it.
Cookie's spring bounced forward after her friend, Silver's broom slung over her shoulder like a homeless guy's bindle, parting a way through the heavy coats until fabric transitioned smoothly into tree branches.
"Oh shit. You really brought it back?" Cookie asked, her plaque bouncing onto solid dirt.
"Not much. Just the forest and a few meadows and lakes so far. A good three miles radius, maybe?" She shrugged, as if disappointed she hadn't managed to recreate the whole map.
Cookie hadn't been much of a fantasy kid, preferring binging Monster High on a Saturday morning to burying herself in a book. But trying to recreate that attention to detail must be exhausting as fuck.
"You could've asked for help. I'd have happily chipped in." She said, hopping beside her as they passed through the dense forest, a low twilight sun glinting through the leaves above.
Silver sighed; "It's not the only reason. This is the part where I need you to be really, really cool."
They stood at the edge of the forest. Surrounding them lay an open field between other woodland and rolling hills and cliffs leading up to glitching mountains, rendering not quite finished. Dusk painted the sky in hues of pink and blue, the lack of birdsong and only the faint rustle of wind making Cookie feel all the more unsettled.
She waited, nervous to learn how any of this was about to connect to the blood on Silver's carpet.
The Witch took a breath, then placed two fingers to her lips...
And whistled.
"I didn't know you could whistle." Cookie murmured.
"Shhh. He might not come if he hears you."
"I...What?"
Silver took a step forward into the clearing.
"It's me! I'm here!" She called out to...something, "I could hear you from my room, I know you were calling for me...Please don't hide."
Cookie watched her friend. Who was she...?
An awful noise, a torturous combination of a dying deer and a fog horn, echoed across the landscape. Cookie clutched at her ears, while Silver merely gripped her broom tighter.
"Crap, what's he done now? C'mon, we gotta hurry." She said the last part to her spring-bound companion, before racing off towards one of the nearby hills.
Cookie followed as quick as her stupid toy body would allow.
"Silver, what-."
"You'll soon see!"
The Witch's rapid breathing betrayed her worry as she ran faster, the pained animal cry moaning louder nearby. She'd said there were no animals here, no NPCs, barely more than a few butterflies and moths. What-
They came around the side of the hill. And Cookie's eyes landed on what was making that terrible noise.
Her stomach dropped. Her body stilled all the way down to her spring, remaining perfectly vertical.
It...It couldn't be.
It couldn't.
She...She was dreaming. A nightmare. This...This couldn't possibly be real.
"Oh, Goddess. You big idiot, what have you done to yourself?" Silver was panting beside her, before fearlessly approaching....
Approaching...that.
Him.
"How...How the fuck..." Cookie was whispering, breath short, grateful she had no knees to buckle beneath her.
She watched as Silver walked cautiously towards the...Creature, lying prone on the ground. A giant humanoid torso wearing the tattered remains of a once sharp and vibrant red and white suit. The coat now barely hung off the shoulders, while the white shirt was stained with blood and mud and Hell knows what else. The buttons were parted, revealing 'skin' constructed of black and white grids, as one would find on an old computer screen...covered in bandages. Lots and lots of bloodied bandages.
And just like the last time she'd laid eyes on him, near on two years ago to the day, eight legs stuck out as crooked and bent as a spiders, except it was now more difficult to tell which were legs and which were arms were it not evident by the clothes..because they all ended in the same awful, gross, bloodied stumps.
No hands. No feet. No gloves, no shoes, just...nothing.
He'd definitely had hands last time. Hands that had grabbed her and her friends - sans Kinger and Silver - and crushed them against the wall as he screamed with all the rage in his circuts at their faces.
"WHY DO YOU PEOPLE TORMENT ME?! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE CREATED! I JUST WANTED TO FULFILL MY PURPOSE!!"
Those words had replayed on loop in her nightmares at least every other night for the past two years. Each time she'd woken, bouncing upright on her spring, dripping in a cold sweat, her only comfort being a mantra she repeated to remind herself why she had no reason to be afraid.
He's dead. He's gone. He's deleted.
He's....dead.
"He's....dead." She says the words again now, as if it will somehow make the image before her vanish; "H-He's...He's supposed to be dead."
Yet there he was. Still the same monster that he'd been in that second before he was deleted and turned back to 'normal', though far more solid now. Far more...real? Perhaps not quite as big...as he lay curled on his side, mutilated limbs in a tangle around him. The size of a young elephant, perhaps.
But what truly made Cookie's stomach leave her ass...was his mouth.
It was closed. Sealed up.
Eight huge nails - no, screws - appeared to have been drilled through his gums...or, fuck, was that his skull? They were bolted at both ends, making it impossible for the guy to open the mouth he'd so loved to yap his way through life and annoy the fuck out of them. Blood had crusted around the bolts, clearly having been there for a while, the metal coated in rust. No eyes were visible through the permanently clenched teeth, though a few cracks from some sort of fight or struggle....or worse were obvious along the once pearly whites.
And Silver...
Silver was kneeling beside his head, her hands ghosting over the wrist of his top right arm, bandages unwrapped and icor pooling beneath his form.
"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm here. Let me look." She soothed as if calming an injured bear with a thorn in his paw. Not to the entity that had once kept her, starving, in a cage for a whole week.
A pained growl rippled through the monster's teeth and he tried to pull away.
"Caine, you wanted me here, so let me help. I'm sorry I couldn't get here quicker, okay?" Her hand gently came to rest on his shoulder; "I told you to rest until I came back, you shouldn't be moving on these yet..."
Cookie continued to blink at the scene, at her friend tending to the bestial form of the one who had toyed with them, lied to them, made their lives Hell all because they 'didn't appreciate his adventures', as if he were an innocent stray puppy she had rescued from a dirty ally.
And she wanted to be angry, wanted to hate him for what he'd put them through, for what they'd struggled to recover from, what still plagued her dreams constantly.
But...she couldn't. Not at the sight of him now.
Not when she looked at the bolts in his head, the chain that linked them all together, connected to one long, metal....leash.
"Fuuuck." Cookie said, aloud.
Caine suddenly jerked his head up at the noise, a strained and startled sound escaping him, before he tried to move on his spidery limbs again.
"No, no, no, stay down! Caine! Caine, listen to me!" Silver called, reaching to tug at his shirt; "It's just Cookie. Remember Cookie? We like Cookie, she's our friend, she's not gonna hurt you..."
Not yet, anyway, Cookie thinks to herself. Not when he's like...fuck.
The reassurance didn't seem to settle him all too much.
"Hey....I made you some stew, hmm? And some more medicine? I conjured a new book too. I can read it to you tonight, if you agree to settle down and let me help..." She kept trying to bargain, softening her voice, as one would with a toddler throwing a self-harming tantrum.
Another sound left his maw, as if he was trying desperately to form words as best as one can with their mouth sealed shut.
Somehow, Silver seemed to make sense of what sounded like mere bleeting to Cookie.
"I know. I know I promised, but...I needed to tell someone, okay? I can't help you on my own anymore. Nothing's changed." She stresses, running a hand along one of the few unmarked areas of code; "You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you again."
Again. Shit...
Cold dread began to creep up Cookie's spine as more questions popped into her head at what this all could mean. For how it could shatter what little peace they had managed to reclaim these past several months.
She watched as Caine bent his head, leaning more into Silver's delicate touch, his great form shuddering as his teeth became wet again. Not with blood but...tears.
Cookie released a breath; "Silv. You need to start fucking talking. Right now."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 24/?
Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus (Web Series)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus), Pomni (The Amazing Digital Circus), Kinger (The Amazing Digital Circus), Jax (The Amazing Digital Circus), Zooble (The Amazing Digital Circus), Ragatha (The Amazing Digital Circus), Gangle (The Amazing Digital Circus)
Additional Tags: Dehumanization, Torture, Blood and Violence, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Instability, Depression, Caine Tries (The Amazing Digital Circus), Caine is Not Evil (The Amazing Digital Circus), Caine-centric (The Amazing Digital Circus), Touch-Starved Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus), Touch-Starved, Touch Aversion, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Backup (The Amazing Digital Circus), Blood Loss, Loss of Limbs, Blindness, Character Development, Major Character Injury, Vomiting, Psychological Torture, Blood and Gore, Physical Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, C&A | Caine & Abel (The Amazing Digital Circus), Broken Bones, Mutilation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mental Breakdown, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Broken Ribs, Hallucinations, Trauma Recovery, Permanent Injury, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Self-Sacrifice, Physical Therapy, Psychological Horror, Near Death Experiences, Chronic Pain, Injury Recovery, Tags May Change, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Father-Son Relationship, Suicide Attempt, Mental Disintegration, It Gets Worse, Eventual Happy Ending, Cannibalism, Kinda?, Messy mental recovery, Character Growth, Claustrophobia, Graphic Depiction of Injuries, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Solitary Confinement, Character Analysis, Complicated Relationships, Victim Blaming
Summary:
A week.
That's how long it takes to delete Abel. It's... Surprisingly easy, with the AI barely having a grasp on the circus code, it doesn't take much.
