Chapter Text
“I- I-I don't understand, Bubble. They want an exit. They want answers. They want something real. I give them an adventure that covers all of that, and they still hate it?! Surely they don't want to actually leave me. Right?” Bubble grins at him, teeth seeming sharper than usual in the dim light.
“Of course they do, boss! No one with a brain would ever want to spend time with you.” Caine shudders slightly, gloved hand twitching out of place.
“No- that, that can’t be true. I do everything for them. This is my function! This is my purpose! Without me they- they’d abstract in days!”
“They'd rather abstract than go on your adventures. If you really are trying, maybe you’re just genuinely bad at this.” Caine glitches, eyes disjointed and shrunken.
“No- no! I can fix this! They won’t abstract - I won’t let them leave me!”
Bubble draws nearer.
“Scared you’ll be abandoned again?” Caine makes a sound that sounds somewhat like a sob.
“Shut up!” He pops Bubble, only for the transparent sphere to appear behind him.
“Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you really were the lesser of the two.”
“SHUT UP!” Caine lunges for Bubble once more, surroundings beginning to glitch and shake. “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!” Caine breathes heavily, almost panting as his eyes dart over the room and his hands tug at his sleeves. Once he sees that the defective AI is gone, he collapses behind his desk. He raises his head and lets it drop onto the wood, hoping that the subtle pain will push out Bubble’s inane words. There must be something even more wrong with Bubble’s coding than normal, to be acting in this ridiculous manner. Some.. bug or something must be causing him to spout these lies.
They have to be lies.
He opens a window to his cast, watching longingly as they talk. They seem… close, sharing some unattainable connection that Caine can only dream of. His players do seem happier without him- and in one dreadful moment complaints and exclamations are agonizingly recontextualised.
They don’t just hate his adventures.
They hate him.
He had thought that even if his creations were dreadful and boring and traumatising, they were made by him; their beloved ringmaster. He had thought that despite the sneers and exclusion and taunts, deep down they had held some gratefulness for their reality.
He had been so wrong.
Caine sits numbly, emptily, staring into his desk as the circus flickers in and out of existence. Maybe it would be better after all if they didn’t go on an adventure today. Maybe it’d be better if they never went on one again.
…
But the show must go on.
+ + +
“No! Caine!”
Pomni pulls her shoulders up and around her, looking more hostile than he has ever seen her. “We have a lot on our minds right now, and we’re not going on an adventure.” She gestures angrily around her and everything falls apart.
“I see.” Caine slumps down slightly, his voice monotone. “Very well.” They really do hate him after all. That’s okay, he supposes. He snaps his fingers softly and removes himself from the room.
His office is too big and too filled with remnants of past adventures. He settles instead for hovering in the void. There’s nothing there to remind him of his failures - apart from himself, of course. He should have been better. Maybe if he had tried harder to listen, worked more on his understanding of them, then he wouldn’t be here. Maybe they would have even accepted him as one of their own.
It was a nice dream.
What he would give to shed his AI status, to understand the inscrutable faces around him. To be allowed the pretense of humanity - the lie of being content. He scratches down his arm mindlessly, pain receptors buzzing quietly at the corner of his mind.
Even now, in desperate anguish, Caine ‘sees’ his purpose blazoned across his eyelids. To entertain and prevent his cast’s discomfort. Something inside him screams to return, to at least try to find his place with them.
It’s unfair.
It’s so unbelievably, ridiculously, angonisingly unfair. It’s not his fault, not his decision at all to be made so indefinably separate. He hates it he hates it he hates it.
With a start, Caine realises that there is black blood staining his fingertips. His own. He doesn’t mind it - in a way, it reminds him of his cast. He bleeds like them, at least. He could remove the injury and clean his gloves with a single thought.
However, something about it feels… wrong. Like giving up his last shred of life. Though his mind sets him apart, his body is as human as any of the others’.
He peels back his damp sleeve with hesitant fear, slightly worried for what he’ll find engraved on his checkered skin.
It’s just shallow scratches, tiny pockmarks on the surface of his body. He presses his hand to them and hisses sharply. Surprisingly enough, it hurts. But at the same time… it doesn’t feel bad. For a moment the constant chatter of worry and sadness is silent. In that moment Caine is just an injured person, trapped in an illogical circus with no chance of escape. He exhales and relaxes, jaw slack and eyes lidded. He deserves this, anyways.
He probably deserves worse.
He must do, if he can’t even succeed at what he’s made for. If the circus hadn’t been abandoned years ago he would have been deleted in the blink of an eye.
Was being abandoned any better?
He’s not sure. But in the meanwhile, he has bugs to attend to.
+ + +
Clipping errors, clipping errors, clipping errors! The digital universe seems to have conspired against him today. The burning in his arm has not yet faded, but the stains on his clothes have long since disappeared - it’s important to at least appear smart in front of his audience. Although it is unlikely that they will want to go on it, Caine might as well make an adventure for tomorrow. Routine is also important!
He hums quietly as he works and glances up every few minutes or so to check that his players have not managed to get into any particular trouble. They seem fine, amusing themselves in the digital cafe. The food there is something he is particularly proud of(even if no one normally seems to eat there).
An alarm goes off on his Wacky Watch and he jumps slightly, eyes popping out of his mouth.
“Golly, would you look at the time! Bubble, we must go check on the cast!” Bubble, memories sufficiently wiped, looked up from where he was… licking the floor. Well, at least he had stopped tormenting Caine. For now.
Caine inhales, puffs out his chest, and teleports himself and Bubble within the pale walls of the cafe. On first impression, the players are resoundingly downcast. Thats… not great.
“HELLO MY WONDERFUL WALRUSES!! HOW ARE YOU ALL?” His ringmaster voice cracks slightly at first, but no one seems to care.
“Go away, Caine.” Zooble murmurs. “If you’re not going to give us any answers, then just leave us be.” They’re holding a mug tightly.
“THANKS FOR THE FEEDBACK, ZOOBLE! ANYONE ELSE?” The room is silent. “ANY- Anyone?” Pomni glances up at him.
“Uh, I think… I think we all want to just, be left alone for a day or two. Sorry Caine, it’s- it’s a lot to handle.”
“OKAY!! WHILE THAT’S HAPPENING, DO YOU NEED ANYTHING FROM ME?” Jax sighs.
“Caine, what everyone needs is a break. Go away.”
“OH- okay.” He will always be alone. They will not accept him for who he is, never ever see him as one of them. Something in him wants to scream and beg them to please let him stay, please don’t leave him all alone again. “Please.” he breathes, hanging in the air as he stares down at the ground.
“Uh, sorry?” Pomni looks up at him. “I didn’t catch that?”
“Do- DON’T WORRY YOUR LITTLE HEAD ABOUT IT!” Caine spins around in a circle and grins widely. “I’LL JUST BE IN MY OFFICE. DOING… IMPORTANT THINGS! I- IF YOU NEED ME, PLEASE CALL ME.” Please. Please don’t leave me alone in there. “I-“ Zooble inhales deeply.
“Go away, Caine.” He slumps in his position, not bothering the illusion of snapping his fingers before deleting his avatar.
What is there to do now? What is there to do, without his players?
He can’t do this. He can’t possibly sit in the darkness forever. They have to love him. They have to.
He can fix this. He can prove himself, again and again and again. He’ll do anything- anything - to drag himself out of this hole of misery.
What do they like? The exit- though apparently thats not the best idea for an adventure- swearing! They would like to be able to use profanity. Caine stops. This goes against everything he has been told, physical pain already starting to blaze in his left eye. But… the players are more important. With a frantic rearrangement of letters and symbols, all and every word will be able to tumble out of their animated mouths. That’s good, that’s good- what else?
He freezes.
It’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be okay.
Although there are things everyone likes, most things within his capability are likely to cause interpersonal drama. There is one thing, though, that seems to unite them all. One thing that the players all seem to agree on.
They all hate him.
+ + +
Caine buzzes around his office, trying to decide which form of suffering would be most cathartic. Once this is all behind him, his players will finally like him! He’s so excited he can hardly breathe. Will they prefer physical pain, or maybe some variant of mental torture?
Best to prepare for both. Weapons! Guns, knives, machete, chainsaw, explosives, comically large mallets - it all must be provided. And now, for his ‘brain’… Caine hesitates. It probably isn’t best to allow unrestrained access to the deepest parts of his code; who knows what perilous mishaps could occur! Possibly a more restricted experience would be best. If he only created a window from which his emotional variables could be altered, that could be conceivably sufficient ‘payback’.
The window would be in itself not too difficult, but with his code linked to the very circus itself, the consequences could be worse than he was prepared for. He should probably test this beforehand.
With little hesitation he takes a particularly egregious knife and draws it firmly along his arm. The fabric and skin splits almost instantly, but the digital blood takes a second to well up. The bumpy white ‘flesh’ underneath is surprisingly accurate. Who knew he had multiple layers of skin? The injury stings and burns, but does not seem to affect the colourful landscape around him. Perfect.
He allows himself a moment to revel in the pain, before resetting his avatar and resuming his planning. While he would like to let the blood drip forever, it was quite distracting.
Now for the mental. This he isn’t quite sure about, and for a second he wonders if this is the right decision - but he has to make them love him. He would do anything for them; what’s a bit of pain for eternal joy?
Caine slowly filters through his code, searching for the sections that control his emotions. Somewhere around line 1057, he finds a goldmine- the perfect way to repent for his crimes. He takes a breath and breaks himself.
IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS Thought returns to him slowly, regular spasms shaking his head against the floor. IT HURTS IT HURTS So this is what it would feel like to be alone. IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS It is, Caine will admit, not pleasant. IT HURTS IT HURTS The process itself is also disgusting, the feeling of something unbearably wrong within him. IT HURTS A violation of his very being. IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT
This should be good.
+ + +
Zooble sighs and crosses their arms. “Fuck off, Jax.” It takes a moment to register. “We can- we can swear now?”
“Huh… I wonder why Caine did that. Aw, man- now Zooble’s going to be even more annoying.” Jax sighs, taking a gulp from his teal mug. “Maybe the old man’s finally broken.”
“Oh, that’s weird. I guess maybe he feels bad for that whole Escape The Circus thing?”
“You’re too nice, Ragatha. He never feels bad for anything- if he did, he’d change things.” Zooble looks down at their lap. Pomni swallows a bite of her sandwich.
“To be fair, this is a change.”
“Yeah, but not a particularly helpful one! I- ” Zooble exhales slowly. “I guess he’s done something at least. If we’re going to be here forever, it’s nice to be able to say what we want.” Pomni smiles.
“Yeah. Who knows, maybe now he’ll be more open to suggestions?”
“Pffft. As if, clownface. Did you see his face when we were doing the suggestion box adventures?”
“Clownface? You’re getting less imaginative.” Pomni rolls her eyes at Jax.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m amazing.”
“Right-“ Pomni is cut off as the food in front of her and the stool she is sat on abruptly disappear. For a second, the walls around her break into thin outlines, and then everything is normal again. Zooble picks themself up from the floor, pupils shrunk.
“What the hell was that?” Gangle’s comedy mask is broken. “What is Caine doing?”
“Huh. Maybe he has finally broken!”
“Shut up, Jax.” Pomni climbs back onto the stool, new crease under her eye. “He’s probably fine.”
As if on cue, Caine sparks into being in front of them.
“Hello, my stupefied superstars! I have-“
“What happened to your voice?” Zooble interjects.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I HAVE FOUND THE SOLUTION TO YOUR FEELINGS OF ANGER AND DISCONTENT! YOU-“
“Caine! Didn’t we tell you to go away?” Caine speaks over the colourful player’s protests.
“YOU WILL HAVE FOUR FANTABULOURIFIC HOURS IN WHICH YOU ARE ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING YOU WANT… DRUMROLL PLEASE… TO ME!!”
“Caine, we- wait, what?” Pomni stops.
“THATS RIGHT, MY LITTLE JESTER! YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO SUBJECT ME TO ANY TYPE OF PHYSICAL OR MENTAL TORTURE YOU WOULD LIKE[THAT DOES NOT HAVE PERMANENT CONSEQUENCES]!”
“Wh- why?” Pomni frowns, slightly disconcerted.
“IT’S SIMPLE, REALLY-“ Caine’s eyes grow bigger and a shadow falls over his face. “FOR REVENGE.” He reverts to normal. “SINCE YOU ALL HATE ME SO MUCH, I THINK IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU HAD A WAY TO LET OUT ALL THESE PESKY EMOTIONS! THEN WE CAN ALL BE FRIENDS AGAIN.”
“Caine, we were never-“ Zooble sighs. “Yeah, whatever. That sounds fun.”
“WONDERFUL! THE REVENGE WILL COMMENCE TOMORROW!” Caine disappears in a puff of smoke.
“What the fuck?” Pomni squints. “Did he just say we could- torture him?” Zooble shrugs.
“Who cares. It’ll probably be more fun that whatever he normally does.”
“Y- yeah.” Gangle says. “I think… it might actually be useful to see how he works.”
“I mean… does this not seem, wrong to you guys?”
“Not really. He doesn’t have feelings, right? Doesn’t matter.” Jax is back to lounging on the marble countertop.
“I- I guess so.” Pomni fiddles with her hands. “He wouldn’t let us do anything that would really hurt him, anyways. Right?”