Chapter Text
It was becoming more and more frequent for the green pippins to become stuck in a rut. He had been speculating on the identity of the original Mike for the better part of a decade, now, and ever since the great relocation of Darkners to the Castle Town and his rapid unemployment due to Tenna’s relocation to some random Lightner in Hometown, he had found significantly more free time to himself and the other Mikes. While he had tried to adapt to their new home, the gnawing feeling of the mystery he left unsolved kept drawing him back into his den to attempt to settle it once and for all. His efforts have been… unsuccessful, to say the least. Whereas before, he was forced to ruminate on the finer details during his shifts both in and out of costume, now all the die could do was stare at his bulletin board covered in ramblings, memorabilia, and red string and try to discern something new from all the evidence he could stuff in his poncho before the displacement.
The smallest of the Mikes needed to take a break. This was going nowhere, fast, and he needed some air before he suffocated under his own silence. Stepping out of his office/bedroom/closet/whatever else he needed the side-room to be, he wasn’t surprised to find his two confidants resting in the Mike Room’s living space. The Zapper and Shadowguy were resting with each other on a couch the trio had dragged in the week before, and while the Zapper was engrossed in a book they were reading, the Shadowguy was still in costume and resting on their lap.
“Afternoon, Pluey, Jongler.” The theorist shuffled past them to the mini-fridge in the corner – the only kitchen appliance they owned – and began searching for something to drink. His throat was drier than the deserts of the quiz show they came from, and some water or tea’d be helpful to clear up this headache he’d developed from idling in a room with nothing but a conspiracy and a dingy light to keep him company.
“I thought you didn’t wants us to use those as our names, boss,” the Zapper replied.
“I know, but Pluey wouldn’t talk to me unless I called it that.” It was an annoying week, trying to communicate with his partner and being given the cold shoulder at every turn. He had relented after he realized he had nothing else to call it now that “Cat Mike” wasn’t going to cut it. “Besides, would you prefer it if I called you rubberbrain for the rest of time?”
“Nah, boss, just happy you’s calling me by my real name, now.”
“What.” The dice’s head shot out from the fridge to try to get a read on the zapper’s face, to see if they were messing with him again.
Jongler looked puzzled. “You didn’t know dat, boss? I called it da Jongler game for a reason, ya know.”
This was embarrassing on so many levels. “Does that mean that its name is actually Pluey?” He’d never live this down – he already felt like a jerk for trying to force it to follow rules that didn’t even matter now that Tenna disappeared but if this is the reason why it was so insistent on it…
“Nah, boss, it’s name’s ♩ ♬ ♫ .” A wave of relief washed over him, and he silently thanked the Angel before Jongler continued, “Do yous want to be called Battat, then?”
He’d pondered it for a moment. Well, it’d be better than ‘The green pippins over there’ and it was so much better than his actual name so… “That’d be great, Jongler.”
“Happy to hear it, Bats.”
Battat groaned and returned to staring at the almost empty fridge. All that was there were bottles of Battery Acid Brew (which was simply repackaged acid from Queen’s pool) and the single Deluxe Dinner that remained from TV World. He was saving the dinner for a special occasion, so more battery acid it was. Hopefully, it was better cooled.
He poured himself a glass and scooched over onto the couch, resting on Jongler’s arm. “So, what are you reading?”
“I gots the new resident’s guide from da prince.”
Battat took measured sips from his beverage. “Wasn’t that just a pamphlet?”
“Nah, dis here’s da extended edition. Ya must’ve gotten da revised one. Dis one has a directory of everybody, instructions on how to expand rooms, a full copy of da prophecy, and a list of staff. But the staff list is just da prince in a buncha different roles, like “Chief Emotional Officer” and “Head of Darkner Security”.” Jongler pointed out the full page of titles that Ralsei had for himself.
He stopped sipping on the sour drink and peeked over at the novel-sized handbook. “Huh, I thought he had help. He doesn’t get King, Queen, or any of those bozos to help him out?”
Jongler skimmed through the following pages. “Nah, just him. No, waits, here we go: “Susie – Chief Redecorator of Ralsei’s Room.” Aw, dat’s nice of her.”
Battat actually felt a smidge of pity for the guy. “Angel above, the prince’s running this whole place by himself? No wonder this dark world’s a mess, there’s no way he can manage all of these guys on his own.”
At this point, Pluey began to stir and purr in Jongler’s lap, and Battat reached over to pet it as Jongler began to speak. “He seems ta be handlin’ it alright, boss. Besides, weren’t ya practically doin’ the same thing in TV World before we came along?”
Battat blushed a bright green and spouted “That was different! I was picking up the work that the real Mike left behind, then you two knuckleheads decided to pick up my slack afterwards. If I could’ve, I’d have delegated it out of my sight ages ago, but I couldn’t because I took up the responsibility!”
“So, ya didn’t wanna ask for help, but ya needed it anyways?”
“I guess?”
“So, den do ya think dis Ralsei guy needs the same?”
“I guess??”
“So, do ya think we should be da ones to do it?”
Battat paused.
“I guess.” He hated when Jongler made sense, because they always made him feel stupid afterwards.
Pluey seemed to notice how upset he was, and began to spread out from Jongler’s lap and lay it’s head in Battat’s.
“So, Plues.” Battat eventually said. “You ready to be Mike again?”
It meowed enthusiastically. Hey, at least one of them was excited for this.
It had been a few months since Kris and Susie had closed up the dark world in the church. Ralsei knew that it’d only been really six hours or so since they had left the third sanctuary for them, but the dark world followed a different time scale than the light. He had spent most of his time pacing around “his” room on the second floor of the Castle and enjoying the presents that the other heroes of the prophecy had gifted him recently.
Ralsei was quite happy with the pillow fort he had constructed consisting of the ICE-E hedge and ladder as its walls and ceiling and the couch cushion as a base. He used to have the pillow as the roof of his fort, but this innovative setup made it much more comfortable than sitting on the floor. The cool wind from the window allowed him to relax from the havoc that was trying to keep the immigrants to Castle Town happy. He’d been trying to get Lancer to fill out the proper forms to expand his room, but all that he’d be willing to give him was a signed note from both King and Queen saying that Lancer can do whatever he wants. The dark prince had also recently completed the twelfth basement layer themed perfectly to the TV studio so that those newcomers could feel just as at home, but it left him exhausted afterwards. Thankfully, it seemed that the endless night would wind down for a bit, and he could finally rest for a bit.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ah. Well, a prince’s duty is never finished.
Ralsei restored his room to just as it was before Susie and Kris left, in case one of them had inexplicably returned, and unlocked the door.
“Who is it?” he said as he opened the door. Perhaps the Top Chef wanted to issue another formal complaint about his kitchens not being in good quality, or Roulxs Kaard wanted to try to usurp him again and become the “truest righteth-handed maneth to thy noble heroes!”.
What he actually saw was… not anything what he was expecting.
It was the green pippins in his Mike costume, but now with a trenchcoat. Also, he was significantly taller than before.
“Motormouth Mike, at your service!” he said, and he clumsily attempted to strike a pose, and nearly fell over himself.
“… Are you alright, Mike?” Ralsei tilted his head. Not only was he much taller, but his arms were also much too short for the incredibly long coat he was wearing. Also, he had a tail.
“Never better!” His shoulders shuffled in the coat, and he whipped his sides with his sleeve. Mike seemed to recoil at hitting himself before snapping into standing up straight. “Mr. Ralsei, I’ve got one woozy of an offer that can save you and the rest of this shindig from toppling over on itself!”
“Oh, really? Do you and the other Mikes want to help?”
“THAT’S HILARIOUS!” the once-small Mike shouted out before nervously glancing around. “That’s so funny, ‘other Mikes!” It’s so funny, I could laugh! Ha! Ha!” He made a big show of leaning back to laugh and nearly lost his footing. Mike seemed to hop(?) back into place before regaining his composure. “Mr. Ralsei – can I call you Rals? – you know that Motormouth Mike is one of a kind!” As he settled back into a steady-enough position, Ralsei could’ve sworn he heard a flat note coming from his chest.
“Say, why don’t you step inside my room?” Ralsei offered, finally understanding why Mike was acting so off. “We can have a more private conversation in there.”
“Good idea, Rals! See, that’s why you’re the –“ as Mike leaned over and began to slip into the chambers, he accidentally slammed the microphone head directly into the doorframe. “OW! WATCH IT, RUBBERBRAIN! I mean-” “Sorry, boss. It’s hard ta see from down ‘ere.” “(An E-flat Major rising scale.)” “Don’t talk until we’re inside!!!”
The combined Mike barely managed to finagle their way inside Ralsei’s desolate room as the prince shut the door behind them. He turned around to see them slouch under the low ceiling.
“Mikes, this is a much more effective combination of your talents than the ball you attacked us with. Good work, you three!” Ralsei said.
We were planning on doing that again, but we couldn’t wrangle the cats quickly enough to fill in the rest of the mass. sang the Cat (or the Chest?)
“You were planning on doing that again; I wanted to approach him alone!” said the Smallest (the Head).
“Ya do everything alone boss. I’d told ya we need ta work together on dis.” spoke the Cowboy (the leg?).
“Folks, would you be more comfortable having this discussion not on each other’s shoulders?” interrupted the Prince.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” The three collapsed the Mike stack and revealed that all of them were still in costume.
“Now, onto business!” said the disguised green pippins. “To put it simply, we’d like to help you out with the day-to-day business of the dark world. Jongler here,” pointing to the western-themed Zapper, “pointed out to me and Pluey that you’ve got, well, everything on your plate and figured that having the three best right hands of the TV World on your side would help ease the load of the prince of the prophecy.” He snapped his fingers, and Jongler and Pluey began to pull something out of the pockets of the discarded trenchcoat. “Now, we know that you’ve probably got a lot of questions and concerns, so that’s why I’ve made this presentation to –“
“I’d appreciate the help! I’ll figure out what I’ll need you to do and let you know immediately after.” Ralsei proclaimed, with a warm smile.
The three froze in their tracks. Jongler had begun setting up a projector while Pluey held up a bedsheet as a screen but began putting it away.
“Oh.” said the unnamed Mike. “Well, we’re glad to work with you!” He seemed to have a twinge of disappointment in his voice.
“Ah, I’m sorry! Do you still want to show me your slideshow?” Ralsei started to feel a little bad for cutting him off, especially considering how heavy his head hung after. Kinda like Tenna did when they wanted to move on from the boards, actually…
“Nah, nah, it’s alright. We got the job, didn’t we?”
“No, I’m sure you put a lot of work in it! Please, let me see!”
“Bats and Plues did spend all night workin on da thing.” Jongler commented.
I wouldn’t mind showing off the graphics I made for your points, Batty. sang Pluey.
“You guys sure? Alright, I guess.” As cool as he tried to play it off, Battat was very clearly happy to present his work.
It was a concise, well-rehearsed fifteen-minute presentation with incredible qualifications and references for the job. Ralsei thought the musical portion was impressive, especially with Jongler’s drum solo. Battat seemed like he was having the time of his life with the pitch. Pluey’s prop work and graphic design alone would’ve convinced Ralsei. Maybe for the next revision of the manual, he’d have to get these three to produce it.
“… and that’s why Mike,” “Mike,” and Mike, “are the right choice to help you run Castle Town!” The trio had concluded the slideshow in a pyramid pose, a la a cheerleading squad.
After a slight delay, Battat spoke up. “So, uh, now’d be when we’d give you the pamphlet and give you space to make your decision. But considering you already gave us the job…”
“Ah, don’t worry about it!” replied Ralsei. “I’ll get you three an office space over here and send for you as soon as its ready. Oh, and I’d still love to have the pamphlet!”
Pluey passed him the handout and took a bow as it went to the door with the other two. But as the three came to the door, it stopped in its tracks (causing the other two to bump into it), and said Wait, hold on. Should we all leave in costume?
“Oh, crap! We gotta change outta our Mike suits!” Battat began to tear off his helmet before Ralsei stopped him.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind having three Mikes on my employ, if you get what I’m saying.”
Battat looked at Ralsei like he had just spat in his face. “But there’s only one Mike?! We can’t break the illusion that there’s only one Mike!”
An awkward silence suddenly arose in Ralsei’s room.
“Boss…” Jongler fiddled with his hands, trying to find the right words. “I’ve been meaning to tell ya…”
The only one who thought that was Tenna! Pluey blurted out.
“What?! But… I’ve been telling everyone that there’s only one! The only people who knew was Kris, Susie, and him!”
“Boss, it’s pretty obvious dat dere’s more den one Mike. Literally everyone in the studio knew.”
“But –“ Battat sputtered “Then why didn’t say anything about it to us?!”
Oh, they did. During me and Jongler’s shifts, they kept asking for us to pass on favors to the other Mikes.
“NOBODY EVER ASKED ME TO DO THAT!!!”
“… that might be because you’re kind of…” Jongler tried to signal to Pluey and Ralsei to fill in the blank for them.
High-strung? A stickler for the rules?
“Responsible?” Ralsei suggested.
“…a goody two-shoes.” Jongler settled on.
The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
“… is that why they started trying to pass me notes while I was in character?” Battat finally settled on.
“I think that this is a discussion we need to have some other time.” Ralsei did not want to have this conversation at all. “For now, you three can relax and get ready for your new role.”
“Yeah, boss, it’s getting pretty late anyways. We’ll see ya later, Mr. Rals.” Jongler and Pluey picked up Battat, whose head was literally spinning, and went off back to the Mike room.
Ralsei had never truly had subordinates before, and he wasn’t quite sure what he could actually assign to them. He pulled out his journal, flipped past his drafts of his next few manuals, and began writing a to-do list for everything that needs to get done to make Castle Town perfect for the future.