Spamton had completed his end of the Deal from so long ago. He did it. He acquired a lightner's SOUL. He was so much more now. He could do anything! So many things, so much power... And Yet. . . There was only one thing he wanted more than the power.
1997.
The year of the best and worst mistake of his life. He needed to— to fix it. And if that meant restarting from 1997? That was fine. Lightner SOULS were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
Spamton had completed his end of the Deal from so long ago. He did it. He acquired a lightner's SOUL. He was so much more now. He could do anything! So many things, so much power... And Yet. . . There was only one thing he wanted more than the power.
1997.
The year of the best and worst mistake of his life. He needed to— to fix it. And if that meant restarting from 1997? That was fine. Lightner SOULS were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
Spamton had completed his end of the Deal from so long ago. He did it. He acquired a lightner's SOUL. He was so much more now. He could do anything! So many things, so much power... And Yet. . . There was only one thing he wanted more than the power.
1997.
The year of the best and worst mistake of his life. He needed to— to fix it. And if that meant restarting from 1997? That was fine. Lightner SOULS were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
Here’s my reference sheets I have for Spamton and his siblings, plus the Spamton for my story Spam Aficionado! I hope you enjoy! Surprisingly, the first proper draw of NEO that I’ve shared.
Finally, Spamton had completed his end of his deal. He had acquired a human lightner SOUL. There was so much he could do now, so many things… And Yet… There was only one thing he wanted to do.
He needed to stop himself from the worst mistake he had ever made. And if it meant restarting from 1997? That was alright with him. Lightner SOULs were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
(Title is link! Under cut for those who don’t want to read on A03)
He laid in a bare, new garbage bin. His glasses-covered eyes stared up, unfocused and dazed. The lid was opened. Above him was a navy blue sky, green lines criss-crossing to make squares. No stars, no moon. A building to his right shadowed where he was. He couldn’t see any posters covering the walls. Instead, there was empty space. That was good. There shouldn’t be anything covering the walls. Not if he somehow succeeded. It looked like he did. He wasn’t sure why this bin was open. He decided to himself that he didn’t care. There were more important things.
Spamton sat up, his head spinning wildly as if he were in one of those tea-cup rides. Nausea filled him for a moment. Disorder cluttered his mind. He couldn’t remember how he got here. Oh, he very well knew why he was here. But the how escaped him like a bad drug trip. What happened? What could he remember? Sorting through his thoughts sometimes helped when they bounced around.
He had flown. Big. Better than ever. Nothing could stop him. No, no, he had been held up by green wires. They tangled around his neck, his wrists, ankles, knees, wings, everywhere they were everywhere he couldn’t escape he couldn’t he wasn’t big enough— No. That wasn’t true right now. Everything was a bit off scale, as though smaller than he was used to. But it wasn’t tiny. There were no wires clinging to him anymore. No more than there should be. Wings didn’t hang from his back, either. He had his old, threadbare clothes instead of metal robes. Strangely they didn't seem quite the right size. The cuffs of his sleeves and pant legs exposed the cables controlling his arms, and his fake legs. It was as if they shrunk a few inches. Or… He was taller than before? That didn’t make sense. They still fit well enough for him either way.
He had… Had a laser gun cannon hand thing? It had been the same colours as his glasses. It shot lasers and pipis, of course. He remembered that. Which meant he used it. He was a bit puzzled for a moment. On what? Something blue, something red. Oh, yes. He was glad he decided to think things through. He remembered that human kid, that teenager lightner with the red SOUL. They had been only a bit taller than him, until he was big enough to feel his fingertips graze Heaven. Then he towered over them. Even broken his wings had been longer than their entire body, and even those wings were smaller than his own height had been. He had aimed his laser gun right at them, laughter ringing through the empty basement.
That hadn’t been how they had died, he recalled. No, he remembered they had friends who had come to try to help them. They all tried so very hard. Almost an awe inspiring sight. But NEO— Yes, yes that was right. He remembered now what it was that made Heaven that much closer— NEO never loses. Especially not to three kids. Teens, sure. But still only children. That fluffy one was first down, then went the purple lizard. The human, Kris, had been surprisingly resilient for such a pipsqueak. He almost felt bad for what he was to do. Alas! He had to. He made a deal, and they had too. They might not have read the fine print. Neither had he. A deal’s a deal, though. A human SOUL for freedom. He just hadn’t said who’s freedom.
Spamton felt more oriented now. The nausea had fled him not too long into his thoughts. His arms shot up, grabbing the trash bin’s walls to pull himself up. His legs slipped. It took a few tries to get himself standing steady and out of the bin. Whoof, whatever he did to get here drained what little energy and magic he had left. He didn’t want to sleep just yet, though. He didn’t know the date. He very well couldn’t sleep through the whole reason he came here! A ticklish, giddy feeling forced delirious laughter out of his mouth. It jumped pitches like a broken radio. It was only now hitting him what everything meant.
1997. It had been such a good year. The year he got that call, the year he got rich. The year where everything changed forever, for better and worse. He thought this would be much easier. As it turned out, time travel didn’t let him just replace his past self and not answer the phone. Now, because of that? Now he had to approach his past and stop him. This would be both easier and harder. Easier, as he doubted he could successfully impersonate his 21 year old self. He changed too much for that. Harder, because as naive as he used to be… The enticement of the caller might be too much to turn away. He wasn’t sure.
He thanked Heaven that [Mike] only told him to acquire a lightner SOUL, not give them one.
The best place to look would be where he grew up. That’s exactly where he started walking towards. It was where he always stayed, if he wasn’t trying to advertise or meeting at the Cyber Grill. He only hoped he caught his past self alone. Binx would be a huge bother. His eldest brother was a relaxed person, but he really didn’t want to talk to him or any of his siblings.
At least it wasn’t Pascal who he was risking meeting. They had been the first to leave the family home for their own place. It was almost funny, too. They all thought that Pascal would be the one to stick around. Oakley and Yael had taken that as a good sign for them to split off as well. It left Binx and Spam alone in their way too big home. Spamton never had enough money or reason to leave, and it was Binx who owned the home. Binx clearly hadn’t minded Spamton sticking around. He never told Spam off. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that Spamton did move away. He wondered how Binx was doing. Then he reminded himself that it didn’t matter anymore.
The route to his old home wasn’t hard to find. It wasn’t much of a walk, but also not that close to where he had woken up. It wouldn’t do, to be too close. Yet it was close enough. Close enough that in the past he had approached the house and stood in the shadows just a bit away. Imagined a heartfelt reunion filled with laughter and tears. Binx would hug him and demand they find the others to go to Cyber Grill and catch up. Pascal would see him, reprimand him on what he was wearing and Oakley would agree with more worry. They’d laugh and Yael would tell them off for being rude. Couldn’t they see he clearly wasn’t doing well? Of course he wasn’t wearing good clothes. Yael would offer help, and Spamton would finally agree. Binx would offer somewhere to stay. Then Pascal would apologise and he would apologise back. There would be sobbing, mostly from himself he knew. Everything would be forgiven. Everything would be better.
He was reminded of when he was 15, tasting a coffee with the first money he’d ever made. Oakley had laughed when he sputtered it out. She had warned him of the bitterness and he ignored it. He missed that. He missed when he was only 9, watching movies with everyone in the living room. The real world didn’t exist. There was only then, popcorn, and his older siblings. They would talk meaningless words and he would announce his desire to help in sales, to be just like Binx and Yael. To then be just like Oakley, just like Pascal. He grew older, and was less assured by the idea. It was 1995, and he would say he’d be a Big Shot. Just like them. They all laughed and told him that it was alright. He was 19. There was so much life ahead of him. He didn’t need to worry. They would always be there to help him, even if he decided to do something else. He was only 23 when apparently family meant nothing if he was too successful.
How naive. He really should have known better.
How long had he been standing in front of this door? Standing with a hand held high, ready to knock like so many times before? Except it wasn’t like before. He couldn’t knock and expect a reunion. Couldn’t watch the door open to reveal Binx. Couldn’t run into his arms and cry out all his worries, cry about how hungry he was or how much he missed him. Spilling apologies and begging to come back home, please it’s so cold, he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to hit Pascal it was a mistake please— It was the past. It was the past. It was the past and that didn’t happen yet. They hadn’t separated and no one was any the wiser of the terrible future. His past self was still home, probably thinking of painting and ways to get better at being a salesperson. Still here and unaware of what he would lose, if Spamton didn’t just knock on the damn door! Why wasn’t he knocking? Why could he never just knock? Did he want to live in the goddamn garbage forever?! Sure, what was another several years doing that! It’s not as if the past 15 years were that terrible and that he was horribly famished or anything?! Knock, already! Knock!! Knock!!! [[knock, knock, knock knock already—]]!!!!!!
The door opened. He hadn’t moved a muscle. It didn’t swing open as if whoever was going to tell him off for standing on their porch. He very much doubted either of them had noticed he was even there. But now… Now someone would. Someone would see him looking quite a sight. After all, his clothes were patchwork, and his left pant leg was strings away from falling off. He couldn’t find any more stitching thread that was thrown away and certainly couldn’t afford it. Plus the inexplicably shortened sleeves and pants clearly showing his fake limbs. His lower jaw wasn’t even his original, just as fake as his fingers. He moved his arms to hold his hands together in front of him, shaking in his spot.
As luck would have it, the one opening the door was none other than himself. His past self. Whole, fluffy, completely white other than clothing, healthy addison. His past at least noticed him so they didn’t accidentally stab one another with their noses. The two stared at each other. One with an expression filled with manic excitement and hope, the other with puzzlement and uncertainty.
“HEY-HE Y HEY!!!” Spamton stuttered out, clacking his teeth a few times. This was awkward. He didn’t plan any farther than ‘stop the phone call’. “[[Lost Control Of Your Life]]??!”
Ah, by that shift in expression more towards puzzlement… He must have made a mistake. Maybe it was the words his tic threw out. He thought they were good enough. He opened his mouth to try again but was interrupted by the younger Spam, “...No Solicitors.”
“NO! No NO!” Spamton repeated a few times. Was that lady luck coming by with a baseball bat for his head? Because it seemed the world wanted everything to go wrong. Just as he tried to fix the situation, that awful and uncontrollable giddy feeling flitted through him. Without any prompt his mouth opened and he started to laugh. His eyelid twitched. Talking wasn’t going to go well now that he did that. Idea B, then. Quicker than little Spam could react, Spamton threw out his hands and forced them to clamp tight around Spam’s black sweater. There wouldn’t be any running away. Not before he could get his words out. “YOU NEED. TO LISTEN. TO ME. Y0U N33D TO THROW AW4Y [Telephone Marketing Strategies]. YOU CAN’T ANSWER [Mike]!!”
“Wha-What? Who are you?!”
Oh, oops. He’s frightened his little self. He could see it. The way Spam tried to jerk away, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks and his lips raising as if he wanted to bare his teeth to scare Spamton away. He had always been such a sheltered, optimistic person growing up. So easily scared… Maybe this is exactly what he needed. A good spook. He’d get convinced enough and then everything would be fine. Everything would… Would… What would it be? What was he supposed to do, when he’d gotten past himself to not answer the phone?
“YOU DON;T WANT TO LIVE IN A [[Goddamn Garbage Can]] DO YOU?!” He decidedly ignored that last trail of thought. He didn’t want to think about it yet. A quick glitch ran through him, distorting his appearance for only a moment. “NO PHONES NO [Deal] NO [Mike]!!!”
Time travel was always such an uncertain topic. One of those things, where until you did it you had no idea what it would be like. There were ideas and theories of course. But they were only that. Ideas. Clearly he could touch his past self without any issues besides normal interactive issues. This entire conversation should have changed his own life and memories, but it didn’t. How was he supposed to know if he succeeded? If he fixed everything? Did his every action mean nothing..?
He knew he was having another breakdown, and right in front of his young self. The previous glitch started to turn into a full disaster, and he was shaking. Twitching. This was turning into a shitshow in his mind, and barely anything had happened. So he threw his head high to the Heavens and stopped trying to keep himself from laughing. It was just as chaotic and insane as the situation felt to him. All the while, held tightly in his grasp, his past self was trying to yank himself out of Spamton’s hold. He was just a stranger to little Spam, of course. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He would know.
“Le-Let me go! I don’t know who you are or wha— or— or whatever you’re talking about!” He could only guess what Spam thought he was. Maybe he thought he was a virus filled addison looking to spread his curse to other poor souls. It was very rare. He recalled being told about them but being lucky enough then and now to not ever experience it. Or, perhaps, he saw someone who just fell off the deep end and happened to pick him as a person to vent at. Maybe Spam didn’t think any of that. Who knew what the little white addison thought of the potentially inevitable future? It was terrifying all the same.
“Binx!! Binx help!”
Spamton immediately quieted his laughter. He dropped his head, static filled glasses gazing at the past. When Spam kept calling for their eldest brother, a sharp realisation hit Spamton. He had hoped Spam was alone. He was wrong.
“NO [[Stop]] STOP IT” Spamton let a hand frantically cover young Spam’s mouth instead of holding him still. This wasn’t working at all either. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Telling his little self to never answer a phone call again and then go home? Everything being fine and dandy? That was equally as unrealistic as his earlier imagination of a family reunion. Nothing in life was simple. Every action let blood bleed. “YOU’RE [Killing] M E PL3ASE STOP [Self Inflicted Bodily Harm] SCREAMING.”
His words felt like irony when a flat pop-up ad slammed him in the face. He hit the ground with a loud censored curse word. He wished he could actually curse heavily, because that hurt like a bitch. Spamton could feel his left forearm trying to pop off from the force, held only by the straps on his shoulder keeping his arms mostly on. His face hurt so damn much. Little Spam got lucky that his grip relied on the bend of his elbows. Instead of getting dragged forward with him, Spam instead fell back on his bottom from trying to yank away. At least the hit stopped his glitching for now. Spamton looked up, shifting from his side to his back. His glasses were crooked and the world was an awful part clear, partial blur, half far too bright, and kind of pink and yellow. It was disorienting but he could make out the two above him.
“AH.” He started flatly, “[[Have You Or A Loved One Experienced Physical Abuse? You May Be Entitled To Financial Compensation Today!]]”
“Binx!” His past self held such a high amount of relief in his voice. Spamton remembered feeling like that once. Helped up by his brother, Spam smiled bright at Binx. “Thank above you got here.”
“Of course. I heard you all the way in the kitchen!” The blue addison showed clear worry for the younger and hot rage for the older. Spamton watched Binx hold Spam’s hands and check him for any injuries. He wondered if his own Binx would have done that if he ever came back. The look turned over to himself, the furrowed eyebrows shifting less worry and dropping so fast to a heated glare. It felt almost exaggerated. Binx’s head tilted slightly with a barely noticeable twitch in his expression. Spamton, however, noticed it. He could guess. That really should have knocked him completely unconscious. It was one of the strongest attacks their eldest brother had. Spamton could only guess why he hadn’t. One or two things. Things he was starting to figure out now.
Though he was somehow taller than his past self— enough to poke out Spam’s eye with just his nose— Binx was still taller than him. His past self’s eye level was about middle chest level. Now he could actually see Binx’s shoulders if he stood up. The height would almost be intimidating from his fallen standpoint. However. That had been one of Binx’s strongest attacks. Spamton barely felt worse for wear, no more than when he woke up. It could certainly confirm a suspicion he had. And cause a dangerous confidence to bud within him, making his face pull into a wider grin. The power of [NEO] was still within him. The SOUL he had from Kris helped some as well. He was filled with so much power and magic, buzzing at his fingertips. It was unfortunate that he was too tired to use any of it. Not that he would use it against Binx.
Using his better arm, he pushed himself up to sit up. His unhidden one-of-a-kind mismatched eyes stared at Binx’s glare. Hmm… Though the hit didn’t knock him out or completely take off his arm, his jaw was disconnected from his mouth. That was probably why it still hurt so much. “YYYYOU STILL HH1T LIKE [[Discounted Supply Truck]].”
With his right arm, he forced his jaw back into place with a pained grunt. Clattering his teeth a few times, he adjusted his loosened arm back into place. “LISTEN. I DIDN’T MAKE IT [Big] JUST TO [Trip And Die] AT THE [[Finish Line]], [Esteemed Customer(s)]!! I JUST NEED THAT LITTLE [Slime]” He swung his arm to aggressively point at his past self, “TO NOT PICK UP THE [Ring Ring]!! I CAN’’T LET THAT HAPPEN! N OT AFTER [Hard Work and Sacrifices] WERE”
His sentence cut off and he didn’t continue that train of thought. His breath was heavy, and stuttered. Being able to tank a hit like that meant nothing with such low magic, and such a ravenous hunger clawing within him. He felt like absolute garbage, as much as he looked it. He refused to collapse asleep just yet, though. No. Not yet. That tickling giddy forced a chuckle out of him and he glitched slightly. The other addisons were watching him as much as he was watching them. He fixed the glasses on his nose. Then Spamton waggled his hands dramatically, “WAIT! HEAR THOSE [Bells]??? I WILL GIVE Y OU A DEAL!! IF YOU LET M E BREAK THE PHONE I WILL GIVE [Free Kromer]. [[PleasePlease Let Me Fix Things]].”
“Who are you?” Binx asked. Ah, of course! He had forgotten to introduce himself. Why, of course they didn’t trust him barring the whole manhandling young Spam thing. He just needed to make it very, very clear who he was.
“I’M EV3RY BUDDY 'S FAVOURITE [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]]! SPAMT — SPAMTON G. SPAMTON!!” Spamton answered with loud gusto. He forced himself to stand and throw his hands up to make it even more dramatic. Then he went back to pointing at Spam, “I’MMM YOUR FUTURE! BUT I. BUT I. BUT I. CAME BACK TO STOP THIS [2 For one Specil]!!!! LOOK AT [Me] AND ASK YOURSELF... DO YOU REALLY [[Want To Look Just Like Me]]?!”
Young Spam opened his mouth but Spamton quickly interrupted him, unwilling to hear what Spam would have said, “NO. YOU DON;T. TRUST ME [Worst Deal Of The Century]!”
“Hold up. Back up.” Binx’s words stopped Spamton from carrying on to a rant on how awful it was to be him. “What happened to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah!” Spam got up from the ground, helped by his brother. He emphasised his next words, “If you’re really me, how’d you end up like… This.”
“He’s not you, Spam. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s impossible.”
“HEY!! I’M RIGHT [On Standby] YOU KNOW. BUT I GUESS I COULD SAY! AAFTER ALL IF AN YTHING [Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey] WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IT WOULD’VE!” He was going to talk anyway. If there was anything that stayed pretty consistent, it was how much he loved to talk.
“I USE TO BE NOTHING BUT THE E_MAIL GUY! THEN I GOT A CALL ONE DAY.” He waved his arms about and twitched, “THE [Voice On The Other Side] OFFERED ME [[Great Deals For Only $4.99!]] I [Becomed] A BIG SHOT. THE BIGGEST!!! I HAD MY FAC E ON BILLBOARDS AND SOLD [Sweet, sweet] CARS AND THINGS!! I USE TO LIVE IN QUEEN’S MANSION. 1997 WAS MY [Favourites That You’ve Come To Expect] YEAR!”
“What?!” This time it was Spam stopping him from rambling. “What? Are you serious? That’s this year!”
“I HOP3D [Thought That Was The Case]!! S4Y, WHAT’S THE MONTH ANYW AY?”
“January.”
“IT’S JANUARY?” Spamton repeated, freezing completely. The lenses on his glasses started to fuzz. “…January….”
The world seemed to pause with him, the noise of static filling it. It was only in his head, though, as the world carried on and two brothers seemed bothered by the noise his glasses made. As quick as it came, the static stopped and Spamton jerked back like a clockwork robot restarting, “KID YOURE [Killing] ME IT’’S JANUARY?? THATS WHEN I GOT THE [Ring Ring]! YOU CAN’T. ANSWER IT. EVER. THE [Price Is Right] TOO HIGH!”
His head felt heavy and his feet swayed under him. It wasn’t his usual inability to stand still that was causing it though. That didn’t make the universe sway with him as if on a dying spinning top toy. Strange. That wasn’t really normal for him…
“IT TOOK ME 24 YEARS JUST TO GET IT! BUT IT ONLY TOOK TW0 FOR THE [Kromer] AND [Unforgettable Deals] TO RU N OUT!” He held up his hands in a claw fashion and gritted his teeth, “I LIVE IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN!! I PHYSICALLY C4NNN’T GET A JOB. HAVE YOU SEEN MY HANDS. HAEAHAEAHAEAHAEAH! I DON’T HAVE ANY HANDS!!! [[Where Are My Hands? Help! Please, It Hurts!!]]”
The last vocal tic sounded exactly like young Spam. Without any extreme yelling or buzz behind it. It was also something that couldn’t be a fake recording. Spam had never said anything like that. Yet. It was jarring. So too was Spamton’s swaying turning into a full on collapse. A Windows XP shutdown noise left his mouth. Everything blurred and turned to complete blackness.
Finally, Spamton had completed his end of his deal. He had acquired a human lightner SOUL. There was so much he could do now, so many things… And Yet… There was only one thing he wanted to do.
He needed to stop himself from the worst mistake he had ever made. And if it meant restarting from 1997? That was alright with him. Lightner SOULs were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
(Title is link! Under cut for those who don’t want to read on A03)
STATS
SPAMTON G. SPAMTON
LV ??? Salesman
Has a human SOUL and the power of NEO.
HP: 600/4809
ATK: 13
DEF: 5
Magic: 12
Weapon: Chained Heart
Armour 1: Dealmaker ($ +30%, +5 DEF, +5 Magic)
Armour 2: (Nothing)
D$ 11,940
Last Save Point: The Alleyway Garbage Bin
(As Spamton’s the one with the SOUL, we can check his STATS similarly to one of our party members in game.)
Also, each chapter going forward will have a song from the playlist I made for Spamton. Here's the song For This Chapter!
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His mind felt hazy. Just a moment ago it had been in a deep, dreamless state until something dragged it out. Not quite out of the sleep, all he felt was a headache, some sort of shaking or shivering, and both amazingly and uncomfortably warm. He couldn’t really tell why he both shook and felt warm. Usually it was one or the other. Was this just luck? His tic trying something new? An earthquake?!
He decidedly didn’t want to deal with any of that. So he turned around in his laying spot with a frustrated noise. Leave him alone, weird shaking. He didn’t want to deal with it, let alone figure out what made it. The shoulder shaking did actually stop. A hum of approval buzzed through his throat. That was so much better. He snuggled closer to the squishy probably-a-pillow (He thinks? He couldn’t be sure. When did he go to sleep..?). Maybe if he fell back asleep then the headache would leave him as well.
The shaking returned like a terrible itch. This time something pulled at his shoulder. Some sort of voice blared in his non-existent ears. That tore him out of his sleep more than the hand touching him. A flicker of anxiety shot through him.
Spamton abruptly sat up, his eyes snapping open to the blurry world. This turned out to be a mistake. As he sat up, he bonked his head right onto another’s. If his headache was bad before, it didn’t compare to now. He made a loud ‘AUGH!’ and dropped his head to cradle it in his hands. The other person made the same noise but he couldn’t see them.
“Ow… Spamton, are you awake now?” Spamton tilted his head out of his hands, looking over to the voice. The figure blurred for a moment but he quickly registered who it was.
“…Binx..?” He mumbled, not quite sure. What was this? Oof, he shouldn’t have sat up so quickly. That hurt too much to be a dream. “BINX [My Old Buddy, My Old Pal]!! HAEAHA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?? WHERE IS HERE? I CAN’T SEE A [$!?!] THING. WAIT…”
The usual disappointment over his vocal volume buzzed through him. He lifted his head and squinted at the blue other. Did he lose his glasses? Everything looked so dull coloured and blurry. Fiddling with his fingers, he felt a glitch run through him. He didn’t let his brother answer, “YOU [Abandoned For The Slime] M E. WhY ARE YOU HERE? IS THIS A [Hallucinations] AG4IN? WHY…”
He saw rather than felt Binx grab his hands. Blue fingers traced the false knuckles on his hands in a circular pattern. Spamton’s eyes followed the movement. Though he didn’t feel anything from it, the motion helped calm him some. Round, back, round, back, clockwise, counter-clockwise…
“I MISSED YOU.” Spamton said, quieter than before. Still not an indoor volume, but less overbearing. Without his glasses covering him, the tears bubbling at the corner of his eyes were easy to see. “I SHOULD HAVE [Come Back Soon!]”
Binx’s expression dropped in the corner of his sight. He patted Spamton’s hands, and spoke with mixed emotions, “Spamton… I don’t know what exactly has supposedly happened to you over the years, between now and whenever you come from… Regardless of believability… But… That’s not now. Whatever it is that happened hasn’t yet happened. I don’t know why you have been able to miss me.”
“oH.” Spamton used a dirty sleeve to wipe away the tears. He took a moment to mull over the words. He remembered now. The past, yes, the past. 1997. January. Overuse of magic and days of exhaustion catching up to him. Probably that hit to the head too. Ridiculously harassing his past self, which seemed stupid now that he has had a bit of sleep. One thing started to bug him. “WHY AM I INSIDE? YOU DON’T KNOW IF YOU C4N [[Trust]] [HonestMan].”
“Well, you are quite right that I can’t.” Ouch, that was blunt even for Binx. “But… Spam— Past you?— believes we can at least trust you and your word for now. Especially after your last… Comment. So… I want to trust you are both telling the truth.”
Spamton hummed. He hadn’t really noticed before, but Binx was really willing to go along with him when he was younger, wasn’t he? Could it be because he was the baby of the house or something? It seemed a little amusing that he hadn’t abused it much then.
His gaze turned to the house. He himself sat on one of the couches in the front room. A familiar blanket bunched around him. It must’ve been the source of warmth from earlier. Generally he could tell where everything was. Years of living in this house were only dulled from time, not erased. The entryway was to his right, the kitchen and dining room to his left. A step stool rested against one of the counters. Behind him ran a hallway and staircase up. He wondered if all his old painting things were still in the hall’s end room. Did Oakley ever take her guitar back? Wait, of course everything would be there. It’s still the past. If he dared tread upstairs, he knew he’d find the colour-coded and labeled bedrooms. Still left alone for when the whole family met for any holidays. Or if they all just preferred home for their meeting instead of Cyber Grill.
For only two people, the house was rather big. Supposedly their parents were quite successful, and that’s how they afforded the house. He didn’t really know, they were long gone. Even before the Call. The house seemed smaller when there used to be seven addisons living here years ago. Not long after it reached seven, there were five whole occupants left. There were four, and after that there were two. Then. Then, there was only one left in the family home. To his knowledge, it stayed that way until he went back to 1997. Now there were two.
Living in a big bunch was great and all. Until you started to feel crowded and wanted to do your own thing. Wanted privacy.
Now that he was in his old home, all the pushed down nostalgia and longing skittered in him. It clenched his throat and left it parched. He missed it, living with his siblings. He would give anything to have another movie filled night with buttered popcorn. A static-filled sigh left him, much like a tired dog would make. If the dog was a low quality video.
“Spamton?” Binx’s voice pulled him from his musings. He hadn’t even noticed his mind slipping from reality again. It felt odd to have someone interrupt it, and drag him from that void of thoughts. He turned to Binx, noticing that at some point he had stood and looked down at him. If only he had nerves in his hands, maybe he would have felt Binx stand up.
“YE S?”
“It’s Friday, and we were planning on going to the Cyber Grill.” Binx paused. He took a deep breath in. He continued, “Spam was wondering if you would want to join us there.”
“...”
“Otherwise you would be left alone in the house. You don’t… You don’t seem like you should be left to your own devices, regardless of why you’re here.”
“I SUPP— 1 5UPP053— I SUPPOSE!! I HAVEN;T BEEN THERE SINCE 1999… Th4T’S” He twitched and wondered if he should call Binx his younger brother. Spamton was technically older now. “[Lost Friends] [[Abandoned]]. WHERE ARE MY [$49.99 Prescription] [[Dealmaker]]? I CAN BARELY SEE.”
He watched as Binx repeated the word with furrowed eyebrows before nodding and stepping away. Spamton tried watching for a moment, then gave up bothering. He fiddled with his fingers again. His thoughts turned back to family.
Spamton wondered how his family had changed over the years, in his own lifetime. It didn’t really matter. But he couldn’t help but think about it. Going to the past was much like visiting relatives you saw only on holidays. They saw you and expected you to be the same as before. Nothing changed, stuck in a static moment of life and assumptions. Except. Now it was only him. He was a distant family member, expecting the same old and thought to be the same to anyone who would believe him. He would be in the wrong just as much as the believers. Still it differed, as he noticed things that the young him didn’t. He never saw how Binx trusted him so much, and certainly wasn’t aware of how willing to believe his past was. Is? Considering where he sat, perhaps he should consider speaking of the past as now rather than then. He likely couldn’t go back to his time, for the foreseeable future.
He chuckled at the thought.
Fear of being an outsider to his siblings wormed through him. Even after the fallout between most of them, he had still been family to them. Doubt was to be expected. Certainly it would take time for them to all be convinced of the absurdity of time travel. Especially with how he looked. Little Spam growing to become what looked like a sickly, black market dealing, media stereotypical druggie? Complete with the manic behaviour and constant twitching? Laughable. Yael wouldn’t believe it. Pascal neither. Oakley he wasn’t sure about, and clearly Binx already sat on the fence. Spam? He would see. Would Spam believe him or did he just pity him?
Spamton’s vision cleared with pink, orange, and yellow hues. It was jarring for a moment before his mind registered why it happened. “OH! THANKS.”
“Of course.”
The pause of silence didn’t stick around. A third voice joined the room. “Oh good. He’s awake just in time!”
“[[Rise And Shine Sleepyhead!]]” Spamton looked behind at the doppelgänger. The Spam of this time came from the hallway into the living room. He too twiddled his fingers much like Spamton, but his hands weren’t made of plastic. He wore white flats instead of the green heels from earlier, but otherwise looked the same.
Nothing more jarring after a nap than to see yourself without a mirror. A reflection that didn’t flip or copy you exactly. Even his magic sorta-clones didn’t feel the same strange way. They were too small and never looked exactly like him. Had he always looked so… Nerdy? Tiny? Like a walking ball of raw cotton wearing clothes? Sure he had seen Spam earlier, but he had been running off of solely the high of success at that point. Really, he should have passed out when he first went back in time. It turned out time travel back almost 3 whole decades took a lot of energy.
“How did you sleep? You didn’t sleep long. Just an hour. We’re late at this point, so it’s good Binx woke you.”
Binx left the area, saying something about needing different shoes and giving a thumbs up to Spam. Spam returned one in kind with a smile.
“I SLEPT [Like A] [Ga-Ga] [Baby]!!!” This was like a literal and worse version of projecting on Kris. “W3 ARE GOING 2 ThE CYBER GRILL? [New Year's Resolutions!]”
As Spamton spoke, he had an idea of what day it could be. Regret over his two second thought agreement filled him. Maybe, he thought, he didn’t actually want to deal with the reality of being ‘other’ to the rest of his family. This was a terrible idea. But he already agreed and didn’t want to— No, he couldn’t back out. Staying alone in this house would kill him more than his family could.
“Oh! Binx actually convinced you? It was my idea.” So he had heard from Binx. “I’m glad you agreed! You just— You kinda—”
“L0OK LIKE [Behave Like A Slime]?? [Hungering For Great Deals And More]?!.!” Spamton interrupted with a laugh of his own volition. Time to get up. He pushed off the blanket and swung his legs, actually sitting on the couch. He paused and then carefully stood up. His feet still stumbled. “oR IS IT [my] CLOTHES?”
“Eh— A bit of both.”
He hummed like a computer fan. The semi-permanent smile on his face turned almost sly and kinda sad, “YOU’RE TOO [Honest]. TOO [Trusting]. YOU CANT TRU5T ANYONE, [Kid].” He stepped towards Spam and gestured to where Binx stood. He ignored the looks on both of them, “NOT EVEN YOUR OWN [Friends And Family Discount!]. NOT YOURSELF AND NOT THE PHONE, NOT THE PHONE, NOT THE PHONE—”
Spamton kept repeating the last phrase like a broken record. Not the phone, no. He couldn’t trust it, it had to be made clear. A glitch shot through him and he started laughing with blackened glasses. He curled in on himself, with hands clawing towards his hair as if to grab it. Why, why, why, Heaven, why? He did what he was supposed to, what was this terrible feeling and the god awful ringing in his ears? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. What was this? Why was it like this again? Where was he? This wasn’t his hideaway, this wasn’t a safe spot.
“IT’S SO DARK [Gamma] IS IT STILL SO DARK?!?!!? I DID EVER YTHING RIGHT WHY IS IT ALWAYS DARK!? [Y]!?.! [[Unintelligible Laughter]]”
Faintly he felt something touch his greasy hair. Luck was with him and he yanked at his hair, feeling a sharp tug. He shuddered and stumbled, yanking again. Spamton’s head shot up, and the colour returned to his glasses. He saw the look on the other addisons. Staring at him. He didn’t like it. He tugged a third time to make sure he forced himself back into reality.
Carry on, carry on. Don’t think about it, don’t let it be real.
“WELL, SINCE WE’rE [Late Night] WE MIGHT AS WELL GO NOW.”
“Are you alright?”
Ignore, ignore. He didn’t register who asked. Only a momentary pause and then he pushed past it with a dismissive answer, “I’M [Please Try Again Later]!! LET’S GO. AND GET THIS. OVER WITH. I ALREADY [Being Afraid] SPEAKING TO P4SCAL AND YAEL AGAIN. OAKLEY THOUGH.”
He walked towards the door and changed the subject in his mind. Ignore the previous train. Not important. The taste of caffeine and sweet, sugar filled espressos crossed his mind. “I ALMOST M1SS HAVING A COFF3E [Addicted To These Sweet Rides?].”
He opened the door and left the house, stopping only to give a wide and expectant smile to Spam and Binx. They were late, didn’t Spam mention? Yes. He focused on that goal as the three of them headed off to the Cyber Grill. No one commented on the fact that Spamton still wore the same clothes. A complete disaster with stringy hair hanging in front of his face, staining his glasses.
The walk to the Grill wasn’t too long from the house. Awkward but only 15ish minutes. Spamton filled the uncomfortable silence with random quips and nonsense. Maybe it would make who he was more believable. Or it would make the other two also ignore his weird behaviour from not too long ago. Kris was good at that. They should be too. He spoke words riddled with stutters, ads, and straight up electronic noises. Such as how it was difficult to keep white hair constantly dyed a dark colour, especially with no money.
Only a few times did Spam say anything, asking questions about a future Spamton lived in. He spoke of a lost grandeur, of fancy clothes and expensive dining. He had been describing how soft his old bed had been when he saw the sign. He tripped over his feet and he let out a telephone dial tone. Binx opened his mouth but apparently whatever he had to say died on his tongue.
They were in front of The Cyber Grill.
It looked as it had always. Of course it did, Spamton retorted to his thoughts. It was the past. Of course it would look the same. That didn’t help his mind from stuttering like an old machine at the sight. The dial tone noise turned to an Emergency Alert noise as he looked up at the Grill’s glowing sign. In the corner of his eyes he saw Binx and Spam continue on, walking to the door. He wanted to follow but his knees wouldn’t respond.
“Spamton?”
Something burned his shoulder. He jerked away from the sensation, vision flip flopped as his head glitched. Spamton forced his body under his control and looked to the voice. A ring of silence followed the cut off of the emergency beep noise.
“WHAT?”
It was his little 21 year old self, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. That’s all it was. Just himself, a hand held up as if it had been on something. That something being his shoulder. That’s all it was. Was he that unused to physical contact that his mind would only register a threat? Too long on his own affecting him? Or did his past self just have really cold hands?
“Are you… Well, no. But will you be okay? Actually going inside?”
He really didn’t want to think about it. Time for what he was best at, or at least pretended he was good at.
“EAHAHAHAHAA!!!! HUH??? WHAT?? OF COURSE [Little Sponge]! I AM [[Mentally Unstable]] FINE!”
Spam’s face didn’t change for the positive. His eyes squinted more and his frown deepened. That was not the look of someone reassured. Augh, Goddamn it. He really couldn’t say a thing without making it worse. He followed Spam as they all headed inside. Ignore the glances from Spam, ignore the bystanders looking at him strangely.
“YOU KNOW!” Spamton hesitantly began anew. “BELIEVE IT OR !! [Banned 4 Life] HERE FOR A F3W YEARS! APPARENTLY FIGHTING IS AGAINST THE RULES.”
“There you two are!” Someone interrupts him, cutting off the topic he had decided on rambling about this time. “We knew you’d be late when you called, but it’s been— Who the hell is that?”
“This is—” Spam’s voice faded to a buzzing and ringing telephone in Spamton’s ears.
He hated Pascal. He never wanted to see them again.
He wished he had come back home and apologised to Pascal. Maybe left on better terms. He couldn’t remember exactly why he started the last fight. There were mixed feelings about them. Then his eyes looked to the others at the table. There was Yael and Oakley too. He expected this but it wasn’t the same as actually seeing them.
Sitting across from Pascal was Yael. The second oldest, yet had been the second shortest as well. Well. Now they were the same height. Spam was still shorter than him. Yael’s hair and fur stood on end like normal, somehow always electrically charged. He was reminded of fun days cheating at carnival games, of hours spent being taught how colour coordination helped sales, playing new video games, shocks on accident, shocks on purpose… He was reminded of bared teeth, a yellow hand holding back a white one from trying to take an eye out, blood pouring from Pascal’s nose, and deep slashes on Yael’s cheek. Yael had been the most sympathetic, but everything had a straw that broke the camel’s back.
He hadn’t seen either of them since 1999. Not since that night. They both had good reason to never see him. But… But they still left him. They left him. After all he tried to give back? They left. Why did they leave?
He always kept his claws clipped dangerously short after that. For promotional reasons, of course. Nothing else. Definitely not because he didn’t want to accidentally hurt family like that again or see that horrified look on Pascal a second time. Looking friendly or looking handsome was very good for ads. Claws weren’t usually ‘safe and sexy’ even if every addison had them. …His fingers hurt for days on end.
Oakley, though. She sat next to Pascal. They were his new favourite sibling, he decided to himself. She hadn’t been there that night, only hearing of it secondhand. They had left on surprisingly good terms, and contact had been kept up for a few years after. Binx had tried to keep calling him, trying to get everyone back together and apologising. Tried to force the family back to what it had been before. Spamton figured it was an eldest sibling thing. Much more preferred, Oakley had waited until Spamton reached out. They were the first and only one he called, since she was the farthest from the entire conflict. Until he threw himself off the grid almost entirely, they had small meetups filled with coffee and laughter. The last time he saw her was 16 years ago. He recalled it being the day before he evicted himself a little too late. He could remember that day in great detail.
He missed having a coffee addiction… But coffee wasn’t cheap, nor did it feed anyone.
Actually. It seemed kinda… Funny. That in a way Spam had been the one to get him in a reunion. The very person that stopped him from it. Years and years of radio silence. Stopped because the family baby requested his sweet big brother to ask the strange man to join the weekly family meetup. There must have been some sort of cosmic humour in that.
The distant sound of pitch changing, manic laughter pulled him out of his memories. The world seemed unreal and blurry. Had it been like that a moment ago? He didn’t know. What was that laughter? Who was laughing? Oh wait, that giddy feeling jumped in his chest and throat. It was him. He was laughing. Why? His tic? There wasn’t anything funny about this situation. The past was in front of him. Shocked, confused, disbelieving, worried. Most of that last one on Spam’s face. How strange to see.
“SO—SO—SoR—” Spamton tried saying in between his fit of laughter. The attempt left him breathless. He tried again with pre-programmed words, “[[Apologises For This Interruption. We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties.]]!!!”
“Spamton? You know how we love you and all… Yeah?” Yael first spoke up after the laughing fit. At first Spamton thought he was talking to him, then saw Yael looking at his past. Not himself.
“No, no, I know that. But I swear, that’s what’s going on! That’s what he said. So far I believe it.” Oh, Spam must have explained what little he knew about the situation while Spamton had… Spaced out. At least that answered an earlier question.
“You are easy to trick, and it could be a scam.”
“What could he even get from such a ridiculous scam?! All he’s done is pass out on the lawn.” Spam gestured an arm wildly at Spamton, “He didn’t even try offering— Wait, no. He did offer money to break the phone. But that’s not really a scam. Just really weird.”
“That’s suspicious as fuck, Spam.” Pascal pointed out. They took a sip of their drink. When did they get that? Wait. When did everyone but himself sit down at the booth?
Best not let this continue on. He couldn’t let a fight start between his past and Pascal. He did hesitate, though. Would it help the situation?
“You sure would believe a stranger. Easily. Any story would get a meal from you.” That was Oakley. Okay, now.
“THERE ARE [Top 10 Easy Ways To] TRICK SPAMTON” Spamton agreed. He flapped his hands in the air as he thought. No way would he go through such effort just for a meal. Time travel? Hell no, too complex. He could have just said his wallet got stolen and Spam would have offered his own money. That would have been so much easier. “FOR EXAMPLE. I COULD. I COULD… What am I trying to accomplish by this…?”
He froze mid hand waggle, his last words a mumble. Best not to waste the breath. With a sigh, he dropped his arms and glanced his hidden eyes at his siblings. “CAN I SIT? AND JOIN? PLEASE? I CAN [Afford These Deals] WHAT I GET. I PROMISE. YOU WON;T HAVE [Spend Spend Spend!] ANYT HING. I CAN— I CaN— I CAn— I C4N—”
“Sit down. Please.” His repeating glitch stopped when Oakley interjected, patting the empty spot next to her.
Spamton sat down, careful not to set off his glitch. Normally he’d just plop down like a weight. But he already ruined a first impression. Shouldn’t make it worse. The booth was the best seat he’s had in years. Not too soft, not too hard. Miles better than the sorry excuse of a chair he had at his little shop. He relaxed his stiff muscles against the backing of the booth. Who knew a good seat would make him feel as though the weight of the world left his shoulders?
“Who are you, really?” Yael went right to the point as always. He sat across from Spamton, next to Binx and Spam. Pascal and Oakley were on his side of the booth.
“THE NAME’S SPAMTON G. SPAMTON [(C)1997]!” Spamton shifted in his spot. Then he settled with one of his legs bouncing up and down. It shook the table lightly. “AND YOUre YAEL. STILL VERY [Yellow]. WHICH I AM NOT [Surprised Yet?] 4BOUT. BECAUSE YAEL. YELLOW. YAEL-LOW…”
Okay, so maybe he rambled while nervous. That wasn’t usual, was it? His past family didn’t seem too thrilled about it. He saw a frustrated glare from pascal and mild annoyance from Binx. Were those towards himself? He assumed so. Were they as displeased about it when he was younger? He hadn’t noticed. Or was it because he was a stranger now? Maybe the stilted words he spoke were it. He needs to try a different approach.
“W0W! THIS PLACE SURE. IS. 3XACTLY THE SAME AS IT WAS!! WHAT DAY IS IT?” He turned his head to Oakley. She was a safe person. “JANUARY 3 ND? I KNOW IT’s [The Year Of Our Lord And Saviour 1997]. IT WAS SUCH A GOOD YEAR YOU KNOW. [[My Favourite Year]]. UNFORTUNATE THAT PRINCESS DIANA [Killed] IN SUCH A [GoodYear Blimp]. BuT HEY! SCOTLAND GOT A PARLIAMENT. AND I GOT RICH! THAT… THAT ALSO. HAPPENED. WON''T AGAIN THOUGH. It CAN’T. I WON’T LET IT.”
He fiddled with his fingers, twisting them this way and that. Maybe he could take total control of the conversation, and refuse to let anyone else speak. He didn’t want to let them talk. It would hurt less. If they were silent, he could pretend this was a hallucination. That he sat in his shop on his shitty chair, and imagined a reunion again.
“Why would you want that?” Objective failed, he didn’t continue speaking. Oakley was loud over his thoughts. “Isn’t getting rich a good thing!”
That wasn’t much of a question, he decided.
“I’d want to be rich.” Spam said, tapping his fingers on the table with downcast eyes. Attention all turned to him. “I’d do a lot if I were rich. Like paying for dinner for once.”
“You know that you don’t need to do that. We can cover it...” Binx gave Spam a soft pat on the shoulder.
Ah ha! A topic he knew. This was easy. He could force everyone to be silent with this. Being polite didn’t matter right now. He saw Pascal go to speak but threw his words out even faster. “HEY H EY HEY! THAT’S A [Great Deals And More]!! WHAT IF I COVER TONIGHT COMPLETELY?!?!” Spamton pushed forward. Both verbally and physically, as he sat up and leaned against the table. His smile seemed to grow. “I HAVE ENOUGH [Wacky Stacks]. THEN EVERYONE ELSE KEEPS THEIR KROmer!”
“WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP?!” Any and all voices at the table quieted immediately at the unexpected tone coming from Pascal. Enough was enough. He hadn’t paid enough attention. He forgot they were an easy to set off trigger when stressed and annoyed. They turned a hell-fire stoked glare to Spamton, baring their teeth. This looked far too familiar. “Stop talking. None of us know who you are, and I frankly don’t give a shit.”
None of the group noticed his flinching at their words. Too focused on the second youngest with mixed emotions. Spamton quickly clacked his mouth closed and shrunk away from his sibling the pink Addison. His fur bristled and he held his arms stiffly at his sides.
Spamton could swear he felt his fingers and knuckles ache, despite not having any hands to hurt.
Yael gapped at the explosive reaction. “Pascal!”
“What?!” Pascal threw their hands up. “He’s clearly fucked in the head! What sane person goes around claiming to be from the future? Who looks like that? No one! Spamton’s got a goddamn bleeding heart, letting him tag along.”
Spam jerked away at the backhanded sort-of-compliment, his jaw dropping. The others all saw that. Binx patted his back and traced circles on his shoulders. Yael turned a glare on Pascal and Oakley was shifting in her spot with grinding teeth.
“You’re ruining what was suppose to be a fucking family meet up.” Pascal carried on, their look worsening and fully focused on the stunned Spamton. “You’re just some crazy, glitched up and broken Addison. We don’t know you.”
“You can’t say things like that!” Oakley leaned back in her seat, sending a look right back at them. She crossed her arms, “Why would you say that?!”
“Look at him! His clothes are falling apart at the seams. He’s so dirty he might as well be dirt! And then, he has the fucking audacity to offer to pay for dinner?”
“Is that really what got you in a twist? It’s an offer. You’re being petty as hell.”
“We were all thinking about it! Right?!” Pascal looked at Binx for support. He scowled. They glanced at Yael. Nothing. “I can’t be the only one! One of these times Spamton’s going to help the wrong darkner. It’s starting to get real worrying.”
“…I’m sorry. I didn’t think…” Spamton spoke up, shaking in his spot. Any bit of a smile turned down. He froze when he felt the table’s eyes on him. Waiting with breath held. Hot frustration whipped through his chest like a hurricane. A growl built in his throat and his fist raised up high, then slammed down on the table. Everyone jumped at the sound. A hole dented in the table, punching half through it with splintered lines spreading out like a spider web. His plastic hand cracked. “GODDAMMIT! WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN [Twice]?!?!”
Spamton tensed and then threw himself to his feet, stumbling away from the table. His static filled gaze looked from the hole to everyone. They all were staring at him, or glaring at him in Pascal’s case. Panic flitter through their eyes. He clenched his hands with a frown. Punching a table usually did that.
Spamton breathed in deep… And let it out. Apathy filled the void his whirlwind emotions left behind. He didn’t want to repeat a mistake completely. “LOOK. I GET IT. I WOULDN’T LIKE SOM3ONE [Offers So Low I’ll—] EITHER.”
He checked his inner jacket pocket and counted out a few hundred Dark Dollars. Who knew he could get a teenager to give him so much for some random junk and the KEYGEN? Setting a counted amount on the table, his frown turned back to a bright smile. A fake one, but one all the same. “HERE. THAT’S ENOUGH 4 WHAT YOU’LL GET,, AND SOME. JUST TAKE IT. DON;T QUESTION. I’LL TAKE [My] L34VE. YOU WOnT SEE ME IF YOU [Don’t] WANT.”
Spamton turned around and left the Cyber Grill. He didn’t look back, ignoring the yelling from the addison family.
I didn’t manage to finish editing chapter 1 in time but, well, er, I decided to start a story! This is the cover I made for it. The art was kinda inspired by sterotypical ‘angels saving people’ sort of thing, heh heh!
It’s a time travel story, set in a timeline where the player, well, is very dead from pasifist/neutral route NEO. He is a difficult secret boss after all. He goes ahead and takes their SOUL and such. Well after he has a thought of, ‘well what if i could fix everything’. He expected to replace his past, not end up appearing there.
- - - - -
Description of the story:
Finally, Spamton had completed his end of his deal. He had acquired a human lightner SOUL. There was so much he could do now, so many things… And Yet… There was only one thing he wanted to do.
He needed to stop himself from the worst mistake he had ever made. And if it meant restarting from 1997? That was alright with him. Lightner SOULs were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.
