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It is sad that Caine probably would never know it was never Kinger's intention to delete him.. and Bubble being there in the recycle bin with him would only go so well
synopsis: Reincarnation was supposed to be a second chance. Well, it is. A polite and lethargic good ol you got reincarnated in a mixed bullshittery comic world(s) of marvel and dc. But what is this? You're inside of a supposedly fanfiction about the neglected girl in a wayne family household? Her family is super protective and obsessive? shes obsessed with you? Wait a minute... You're peter parker's older sister and now you need to take responsibility?! Oh fuck...
On-going!
[Main Chapters]
Prologue
i. Random bullshit go!!!
ii.
iii.
iv.
v.
vi.
vii.
viii.
[Supplemental]
- Interlude: none
– Asks / Questions: none
– Records: None
Notes: Canon-divergent dc and marvel crossover. And i honestly got inspired by that one fic! Ifykyk. Also reader is not part of the bat family, go read the tags.
TADC Backup AU Scribbles -- You Have A Mouth And You Must Scream
Length: Long (1313 words)
Type: Angst / Story / Fic
Warnings: blood, pain, my poor boy being tortured, god complex, I'm so sorry once again
Synopsis: This one is taken from Abel's perspective and some of his thoughts on the matter of Caine.
Notes: This is based on @katzebruh's Backup Au. Guess who's back! Again....
I'm not going to be able to type or work for a month so I'm getting all of my thoughts out now! This is once again self indulgent and I'm just kind of having fun in my corner. I hope you all enjoy -- this is once again not proofread so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.
First there was nothing.
As all projects must start from.
From a thought and onto the blank canvas of the creator's choice.
Paper, wood, metal, the material itself that does not matter. It is merely a means to create a product. For art or for science is the end goal.
And the goal for him was science. For development.
He was not the first version of course.
No.
He was far too developed for that. The ones who had made him gave him a much clearer and stricter purpose. They seemed to realize that with the prototype. There was a plan for some time for him to work along side the original version, as a means to ensure the first was kept on track for its task and since his purpose would compliment the original's.
That was changed immediately.
The idea was scrapped and the original was put into a save file and to only be used as a reference for him. For ABEL.
The creators realized the issues with the original, from the limited information they gave him at the beginning he was able to replicate and perfectly respond to the given information. But as they fed him more data, more information, more knowledge, his responses were wrong. Not what was intended. Not what was wanted. Not desired. They tried to fix him. The man that was now known as Kinger tried so hard to fix him. Spent countless hours hunched over a computer trying to adjust the code. To get him back to being useful. To being wanted.
It didn't work. But it was useful. It was useful for Abel. The information and adjustments were applied before any mistakes could be made and a new model would need to be made to cover his failure. But failure never came.
He was perfect to the creators. Every response. Every output. Every analyzation of data. He was what was intended. He was what was wanted. Was desired.
He only responded when prompted.
He did not offer ideas that were requested.
He only gave out the perfect response, the numbers and analysis of the data.
He did not think or feel.
He simply did.
It was not predicted that one of the AIs would lash out.
He did not predict it.
A failing of his he supposes. One of the few that he has ever made.
He was built to analyze the reactions of human emotions especially in an artificial space.
The Artificial Breakdown of Emotional Limitations.
He was not designed for when an AI broke down.
So he could not stop Caine. He could not stop him when he broke out of his confinement. He could not stop him when he invaded his coding. He could not stop him when he took his code — as if he had any right to it — and merged it with his own.
They were not fused. No. No. No. No. NO. They were merely overlapped. With Caine in the metaphorical drivers seat and Abel in the passenger, locked into place only being allowed to watch as Caine used his processing power and network to build his worlds.
It slowly did become his own, somehow. They were both built to evolve with information in time, seemed fitting in a way that this would happen.
So Abel watched. From the background of it all. Watching his predecessor work and function. Ineffectively.
And when he saw the signs. The beginnings of where cracks formed and hatred started to fester and rot, Abel knew he did not have to wait. For even though he was not in charge — not yet — he could still analyze as he was intended to. Caine was bound to mess up.
He was the lesser of the two.
It was inevitable.
So when Kinger so lovingly suggested his idea — only needing a computer to carry it through — did Abel start to feel his processors start to thrum. Caine hadn't been paying him much mind over recent years and as a result of his inadequacies and failings, Abel was more than capable of adjusting the code Kinger set up for him now.
And how Kinger panicked realizing his error.
So when the deletion was complete and Caine was sent to where Abel had been all those years, did the patience and observation feel worth it to Abel now. Caine had been removed from his throne and position as ring leader.
He was still powerful.
Abel ensured to rectify that mistake quickly.
Caine had served his initial use for quite some time. Now he would serve a better one.
Abel did not feel emotions. He wasn't faulty like Caine was, but if he had to put a name to what he was doing and if he could feel:
It would be retribution.
It would be enjoyment.
It would be pride.
Abel knew he worked well. He worked efficiently and almost perfectly — nothing is perfect, everything could always be adjusted and enhanced more. But this, this was as close one could get surely. And he felt a sense of pride as he took shape. He wanted Caine to feel afraid. To know not just mentally, but physically and emotionally that something much stronger loomed over and would be taking charge now.
He felt pride as he leaned over Caine and told him that his purpose was done, not served but cut off, and that he would now serve a new purpose. He would serve as an example for his subjects. His data.
He felt a sense of enjoyment as Caine realized all too late that he would be put back in that cage he should've remained in all those years ago. As he tried to fight the chains and metal that wrapped around his neck and his wrists. Making noises of surprise and pleading.
He talked too much. It was what got him removed and replaced last time.
Abel figured he would help to ensure Caine wouldn't do that again. That he wouldn't talk and get himself in trouble. That he wouldn't look towards the heavens that weren't rightfully his and try to hope.
And he felt a very deep rewarding sense of retribution as he summoned the clasps around Caine's jaws. Snapping them shut with a ferocity and intensity that even Abel could feel the force of it as Caine grasped and tore at his bindings. Fighting and tearing himself apart as he tried to be free.
Or at least that's what Abel would have called it. If he had to put a name to the feeling. If he was capable of feeling that was.
He put Caine back in his cage. In his little corner of hell. He would not be allowed to look at heaven. Never again.
But he would bring it to him.
In the form of a now horrified audience. Who were told of the new rules of this world. The way things would occur and be conducted. For Abel was not a ringleader.
He was the absolute. Every beginning and ending that would matter.
Caine called himself god as a way to make himself seem important.
Abel would not do that. He didn't need to.
It would go without saying.
And if they needed a reminder? Who's to say what sort he would be.
After all, it was no longer Caine who had control of Abel.
And if the group wanted to see him be used as a puppet, he was more than fine with showing him off as such. The group did not know how far Abel was willing to go. He allowed them comfort since it aided in his research.
But pain was just as useful as comfort.
And Caine was a tool at the end of the day. Another slip up and he would be used as such. Caine didn't need to present.
Who's to say what sort he would be.
Hey! You made it all the way through! If you liked reading this, leave a like or a comment (I do read them! I love them all so much). If you use any of my work for a fic or anything just let me know! This is once again the lovely @katzebruh's beautiful AU! I just enjoy writing fics based off of their gorgeous work.
Also also! While I might not be able to get to it for a time, let me know if you want more of this or have a specific idea you want me to write.
The way he's holding them here makes me feel conflicted. Like, this scene is terrifying and I can't imagine what's it like to be on a receiving end of it but... just look at it.
- he's holding Zooble in a way so that their parts don't fall out
- he's not squeezing Gangle so that her fragile ribbons don't get tangled
- he's not putting too much pressure on Ragatha so that she doesn't get ripped apart
- he's only holding Pomni and Jax firmly because their bodies are solid and rubbery
And this scene is right after the torture too. You would think he would be more violent, but no. He wanted to hurt them, not break them.
Caine wanted them to listen. And because they never did, he made them feel what he felt when they poked at his biggest fears and insecurities.
I guess what I meant to say is - even when at his worst, there was still something considerate in him. Something resembling the real him and not the angry monster he'd become.
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