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There was nothing beyond the reaches of Castle Town. In the space between the lively community and the other dark worlds laid a barren wasteland of glittering black sands, carried on by the winds
Nothing of importance lies here, nothing that would be missed if broken.
Away from prying eyes, Spamton knew this was the perfect place to show Tenna the NEO body again. A brief moment between them post Tenna's prophetic death simply wasn't enough to truly appreciate the intricate details of his body, its fine circuitry and vibrant colour.
Tenna's feet sunk into the sand with every step. Huffs and puffs of exhaustion rack his body as Spamton sits on his shoulder. The pair cross over the mound of a final sandbank before coming to a clearing Spamton knew would be there. This was the perfect place, no one else would see, no one else would get hurt.
“I don't think I've ever been this far from Castle Town before,” Tenna thought aloud.
He let out a hiss of pain as he brought a hand up to retrieve Spamton, only for him to skitter down his tailcoat with a protestful huff.
“You don't need to [Please Provide Assistance] me getting down, [Cathode],” Spamton said softly, running his hands through his hair.Feet firmly planted on the ground, he looked Tenna in the screen before saying, “I can [Claimb] on my own.”
The hackjob repair made on him in The Cold Place only held up for so long. It was a temporary repair. A bandaid for a bullet wound. Repeated motions and strenuous activity turned what began as a tolerable ache into a sharp pain that radiated across his entire body whenever he moved the wrong way. Spamton tried to ensure Tenna didn't lift his arms too much, but he's not a mind reader. And Tenna is big.
“Oh I don't mind, Spammy. Call it physiotherapy if you want, but you don't weigh much and I need to get exercise with my arms if I'm ever going to recover…” Tenna responds, flashing a kind smile to the salesman. Spamton doesn't miss him rubbing his shoulder, but opts to say nothing at the moment.
That smile only worked so well to hide the pain he felt. Spamton can still see the twitch of his lips when a jolt of pain irritated his chassis, heard the way his breath hitched or his inner mechanisms faltered. Every time he saw those moments of anguish, he felt his own chest tighten. His own body recoiled and ached from the deep sense of shame. The knowledge that no matter how hard he tried, Tenna got hurt. Now, he was suffering because Spamton can’t fix him to like new,.
“So, was there something you wanted to show me?” Tenna asked He knelt down to be closer to his mailman.
Spamton let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixated on his hands as he tangled his fingers together. He shouldn't be as nervous as he is, but he wanted everything to be perfect for Tenna. He wanted to be perfect for Tenna.
“[Boob Tube] I—” he hesitated. Coughing, he released some of the tension in his throat. “I-it’s still a work in [Progressive Ideals]. If there’s any [Questions, comments, concerns, complaints] just tell me, okay?”
“Well, I can definitely try to keep an open mind. What’s this about?” Tenna responded.
Spamton doesn’t respond. How can he describe it? His dream body? Not exactly. A different him? No, no. Despite how different it looked on the outside, it was still Spamton. Instead of speaking, Spamton took several steps back , head bowing down and his eyes closed tight.
He stood like that for longer than Tenna found comfortable. The silence that hung between them made his loud raspy breathing all the more noticeable. Slow and heavy, each breath the wooden body pulled into its shell carried a weight that made Tenna’s entire body shudder. He could feel the buildup of static clinging to his suit and crackling against his screen, growing and radiating around Spamton until a single moment where it all burst.
What was going on? Tenna desperately wanted to protest, to beg Spamton to stop this madness, but he was told to keep an open mind. Whatever was going on, Tenna believed Spamton could handle it.
He can.
He was strong, brave, and Tenna would be damned before he'd ever tell Spamton he can't do something.
The ground beneath their feet quaked; a low rumble spreading throughout the inky black that leveled out the sand dunes in the distance, reducing them to but mere piles of black and purple. Spamton’s very soul was glowing. A pure, blinding white energy burst that forced Tenna to his knees. The TV covered his screen with an arm, wincing in pain from the grind of steel against plastic. His antennae rattled in the wind, sand whipping his body.
Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Silence stretched across the void, threatening to swallow Tenna with it.
The wind died down, and the earth came to halt, and the smell of glass and metal radiated around them. Slowly, hesitantly, Tenna lowered his arm to reveal his screen once more. His antennae straightened out, angling themselves towards Spamton to finally get a good look at what exactly happened.
But Spamton wasn’t there.
When Tenna’s sights refocused, he was met with feet. Pristine white boots balanced effortlessly atop the sand despite the tall stiletto heel. And then there were the legs. Oh, Angel above, those legs… So long that Tenna thought he would never see where they met Spamton's hips. When they did finish, he was met with overlapping metallic slats, not too dissimilar from his own midsection, that covered a small waist. A chest covered in black plates accentuated by gaudy flames that glowed pink and purple that left Tenna wondering what more could be hidden just beneath. Arking wings of light extended from his back, glowing as vibrant as his chest while they settled in a more relaxed position. Slates of glass rattled and chimed against each other while they moved, emitting a soft and soothing echo that brought Tenna an unparalleled sense of calm.
The sound of The Angel, as Spamton described it countless times before.
A deep breath caused every slate of plastic, metal, and glass to settle in place across this entity’s body, pulling his attention to his face. Billowing smoke and steam left Spamton’s parted lips, teeth bore in both fear and delight.
A pink glow was cast upon the blackened sand as Tenna took a step closer, his own breaths ragged while his hands grasped nervously at the fabric of his pants.
“... S… Spamton…?” Tenna muttered, letting out another heavy breath as he pulled himself closer and closer to Spamton.
The TV was quick to tear his gloves off, haphazardly tossing them aside to trace his fingers along the indented flames trailing up Spamton’s arm. His fingers caught on the slats of black metal. His own cold plastic touch caused Spamton’s breath to falter. He wanted to move, to wrap his arms around Tenna’s waist and pull him into his bust, but he wanted to give Tenna time to drink it all in and admire the craftsmanship.
A large clawed palm rested against his chest. Slowly and methodically, Tenna traced the edge of the metal slate, meeting the seam of this forme's armpit.
“Angel above, Spamton…” He whispered, screen casted upwards to meet Spamton’s much larger head.
He was taller. Much taller. Part of him felt like he needed to grow just to speak to him, but something else boiled inside the TV. A desperate desire to be less for once. Less powerful, less grand He wanted to feel himself enveloped by all the warmth this new body had to offer. He wanted to rest himself upon Spamton’s chest and listen to the blissful sounds of mechanical wonder like Spamton does to him.
“... Do you [Like And Subscribe] it?” Spamton asks, craning his neck to meet Tenna’s screen.
“Like it?” Tenna took a slow breath, hands still adoring the new form his little mailman had taken on. “Words can’t even describe, Spamton…”
Spamton smiled, another puff of hot air escaping between his teeth. He had a mouth, he had lips, but his excitement kept him from using them. He wanted Tenna to initiate.
“... it’s not [A Perfect Shot], but I finally get to be [B I G] for you,” He said, slowly coiling his hands around Tenna’s waist.
“Not perfect?!” Tenna responds breathily, his chest rising as he slowly shakes his head, “How could it not be perfect…?”
“It’s a [Power Vacuum] that takes [1.21 Gigawatts!] to run…”
“Does it uh…” Tenna cleared his throat timidly, his screen turning vibrant pink for a moment, “Does it have a…”
Spamton couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head before he rested his chin on top of Tenna’s hard plastic shell.
“No, I’ve still got [Nothing! Nadda! Zilch!]. Kris helped design this [Hot Rod] and I’m not going to ask them about that,” He took a deep breath, gently rubbing Tenna’s sides pensively, “But it’s still [Progress Check], maybe once I’m not such a chicken [$!%!] I can ask [Easel] about [Fix All Your Problems With Three Easy Steps]...”
“Oh, well, that’s not the end of the world. Your wings are gorgeous, can you fly?”
Spamton shook his head once more, his wings fluttering before they settled in place. The melodic chime of glass colliding against itself brought a wave of calm to the TV. For just a moment, his mind had wandered away completely from the pain his shoulders brought.
“No. But I will one day,” Spamton spoke with a sense of calmness unheard of before, his large finger caressed over Tenna's waist.
The other ones moved over his shoulders, holding him delicately. Like one instant this will all be over, and Spamton will be back to his regular puppet form.
He could feel the way his chest tensed, hear the strain in his voice that he tried to conceal with a shift of his weight. Raising his arms to wrap them around Spamton’s neck sent a wave of pain shooting across his entire body
“Careful, [Cathode], I don’t want you [Hurted] yourself,” Spamton mutters, Tenna huffs in response.
“I’m not made of glass, Spammy. A little discomfort won’t kill me.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he responds, gently rapping Tenna’s screen with the knuckle of his forefinger, “Just don’t hurt yourself for [Little Ol’ Me].”
Tenna sighed once more, slowly lowering his arms with a string of pained grunts. The sound replayed over and over in Spamton’s head, his smile faltering for a moment before it disappeared completely. Once again, Spamton found himself dreading the part he had to play in all of this. If only he hadn’t gotten so close, if only he could have warned him, if only he could have fixed him better…
But Tenna didn’t hold it against him. He never did. Whenever it did get brought up, Tenna always placed the blame solely and squarely on The Knight. The Knight cleaved him, brought him this pain, these emotions. Whatever happened before that–no matter how related or unrelated it seemed– had nothing to do with his death. It was all them. It wasn’t the influence of the Benefactor or Kris’ agenda. It was The Knight’s choice. Because they knew that whatever deal they made would have been null and void the very second they raised their blade to his kids, and that wretch wouldn’t be leaving Tenna’s realm if he had anything to do with it. So The Knight took him out of the equation. Otherwise, their death would have been all but guaranteed. Tenna sucked in another soft breath, letting his fingers trace the length of Spamton’s arms. Every time they caught on a seam in the polished metal, he could feel a spark of excitement shoot up his back. The giant robot’s grasp was so gentle, as if touching Tenna the wrong way would bring him even more pain.
He didn’t want to be treated gingerly like this. It made him feel so much smaller than he was, like the little doll he treated Spamton as when they first met. He can understand why his mailman might be a little nervous. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his gaze remained fixed on his shoulders, it was apparent that he didn’t want to even entertain the risk of his strength overwhelming Tenna. This form was still so new to him.
The TV just smiled, trying to conceal the pain and stiffness in his joints while he reached up to rest his hands upon Spamton’s chest.
“You probably think this is silly but, it’s nice being smaller for once. I mean, shrinking is one thing but, you know. It’s…. Nice being able to look up to you for a change.” Tenna’s screen turned deep pink, his antennae curling around themselves as he pulled himself a little bit closer.
“You [Think, think, think!] so?” Spamton’s lips pulled into a devious smirk, pulling Tenna closer. His hand unsubtly lowers to Tenna’s ass.
Tenna’s screen darkened more, his hands balling into fists against Spamton’s breast plate. There were so many things he wanted to do with his spammy little mailman at this moment. He wanted to pin him down into the dirt and kiss every inch of his new body, to tell him over and over how beautiful it was, but how beautiful his puppet body was too. He wanted to tell him that he doesn’t need to be big for Tenna to love him, to tell him that those ridiculous hot rod flames were tacky and he hated how much he loved them. He wanted to fuck him until they both fell apart.
But, there was one thing Tenna knew he needed to do. Something he’d always been too big for. While Spamton did have subtle sounds clattering away inside him when he was still a glass and code addison, as a puppet, that subtle thrumming of processors and air exchange had been replaced by an eerie and hollow silence.
Comparatively, this body trummed with life. Hundreds of pistons and coils hummed in unison with subtle clicks and thunks. This mechanical marvel in front of him held the same static hum that Tenna held, the one that soothed the savage beast of Spamton’s mind. Tenna took in another deep breath to gather the courage it took to be so vulnerable in front of the man he loved.
“Y-you know how… you really like to just- lay on my chest…. For hours, and just listen to me?” Tenna's fingers traced absentmindedly around Spamton's chest, careful not to scratch the plating. He could feel the subtle vibrations of every piece of Spamton working together in unison.
“[Check Yes] of course I do.”
Spamton was starting to like where this was going.
“... Could we do that?” Tenna’s chest tightened, his head shaking vehemently as he began to laugh, “Oh, no that’s silly! A big body like that, so powerful! You don’t want to just lie down, f-forget I asked! That was stupid, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it! Oh, you probably want to do something more FUN! This is an EVENT!! Hey, how about we just--”
“[Cathode],” Spamton interrupted, letting his head fall to the side when Tenna pushed him away. “ If you want to [Premium Lye Solution, Ideal for Soap Making And] down, we can. I’m not [Under Pressure] to do anything [prespific].”
His interruption broke Tenna from his thoughts, feeling a warm wave travel across his chest as Spamton stepped back just a little more to lay in the glittering black sand. His wings vanished in a glimmer of light. Laying like this, they would only get in the way. His entire body sunk into the shifting sand, his own weight pulled him deeper in while individual granules filled in the cracks and crevices in his armoured shell. Tenna simply watched, his own hands carefully clutched to his chest while Spamton laid down in the comfort and warmth of the dune.
The way the sand conformed to his body, Tenna thought it looked quite comfortable. The perfect shape, supportive in all the right places, and he thought that the heat that radiated off Spamton’s body might help ease the pain in his shoulders. Once Spamton had settled, his legs and feet partially submerged in the sand, an arm behind his head, he beckoned Tenna forth.
A single hand outstretched, his smile kind and welcoming.
The same way Tenna always wordlessly welcomed him into his clutches. No words were spoken between the two of them, just the subtle whirring of machines while he slowly fell to his knees and crumbled into Spamton’s arms. As it always was the other way around, Tenna rested the side of his head against Spamton’s, letting his antennae fall to the hard shell. What began as a subtle electrical whine suddenly amplified, occasionally interrupted by melodic clicks and thunks, fans whirring and pistons snapping…
It sounded nice. It sounded alive. The white noise enveloped him, deafening the world around him. All that existed in the moment is him and Spamton. The gentle way in which Spamton caressed his back faded into nothing, as did the pain in his shoulders. All that mattered was this blissful static and the way Spamton’s chest rose and fell, like waves lapping at the shore.
He could spend the rest of his life like this and be perfectly happy.
But eventually, his mind began to wander. The pain returned, and as did his own thoughts about it. His mind was invaded by images of the knight. The feeling of their blade, the day his children were forced to fight them. The way he failed them all. His arms ached, each minute shift telling him how he’d hurt so many people. Feeling this way was his punishment, the Knight leaving their mark to make sure he remembered he messed up.
Tenna toiled and writhed above Spamton for hours before he spoke. Hundreds of times he felt the TV take a sharp breath, preparing himself to confess only to fall silent once again. The repetition ate away at Spamton's mind until he couldn't take it anymore.
"You're making me nervous, [Cathode]," he muttered, reaching across the smaller darkner to tangle their fingers together.
"Oh, Spamton.... Spamton,"
The hard plastic was cold to the touch. He timidly brought Spamton's hand up to his screen. A single kiss was pressed against his palm, a spark of static jumping from Tenna’s lips.
"I want you to cleave me.”
Everything ground to a halt.
“W-what?” Spamton asked, his jaw hanging slack while he stared down to Tenna.
“You heard me.”
He would never dream of denying Tenna. The vibrant blinding white of his screen commanded Spamton’s full attention as he rose back up, allowing the TV to straddle his legs and resume kissing up the length of his arm.
It was strange, Spamton thought. He'd never loved anyone more in his life. Maybe that's why he wanted to tear him apart so badly.
“B-but [Cathode] you barely- Are you- Do you [Hear Here!] yourself?!”
The TV’s lips settled against Spamton’s neck, breathing slowly against it with his hands carefully resting upon Spamton’s chest.
“I do, Spamton,” Tenna began, kissing the crook of Spamton’s neck. “I want you,” another kiss, this time a little higher. “I don’t want to see them, anymore,” his voice barely hung above a whisper, peppering his jaw with kisses. “I want to picture your face when I feel this pain,” One final kiss pressed against the corner of Spamton’s lips before Tenna retreated. His antennae hung low, his screen black. “I want to hurt so badly that I love you even more.” He whispered softly, his head gently set upon his shoulder.
“[Cathode] I…”
“Please, Spamton… I need this,” He whispered.
The robot’s entire body shifted as he took in a deep breath. His chest creaked in protest, his legs shivering as he pulled them from the sand. He could already picture himself doing it, tearing his Cathode apart. Quick, swift, assuring Tenna that he wouldn’t feel any more pain than he needed to. As sudden and shocking as the Black Knife, Spamton would be the last face Tenna saw before he succumbed to his injuries. The only thing he saw.
As much as he could fantasize himself fulfilling Tenna’s wishes, though, he knew how important it was not to simply go about this without a plan.
“I need this,” Tenna repeated. “I need you.”
Spamton took another breath, shifting before slowly pulling Tenna away to look at him directly. He pressed a single kiss against his warm lips, hands wandering up and down the TV’s torso.
“.... [Cathode]....” Spamton began, his fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket.
What if he made it worse? What if the damage was too severe? Spamton reached up, touching Tenna’s shoulder as softly as he could muster.
“You’ll put me back together,” Tenna said, taking hold of his hand and pressing it just a little harder into his chassis. “Won’t you Big Shot?”
That boob tube certainly did know how to drive him mad, didn’t he? Those two words sent a shiver up Spamton’s spine as he stared deep into Tenna’s screen, feeling his breath on his face, smelling the smoke from his vents.
Burning dust, mixed in with the subtle scent of flowers. Beautifully intoxicating, and perfectly, uniquely Tenna. Spamton could feel the warmth emanating from his shoulder under his fingers, and the sound of his breathing. It drove Spamton mad.
What could he say other than yes?
…
A plan had to be made before anything else. No matter how much Tenna begged, Spamton would never be able to mercilessly slaughter him out of the blue. So there would be a fight. No punches pulled, every dirty trick on the table to ensure they both stood a chance.
That was fine.
Spamton was the one who needed to win.
They stood across from each other in the empty space at the end of the world. Sand drifted aimlessly around them. Each subtle shift of the wind sent a shiver across Tenna’s chassis.
He chose not to wear his jacket. He didn’t want it repaired or replaced a second time, and while he would have preferred to take his shirt off too, Spamton insisted he kept it on, that its absence would be too distracting.
So they both stood across from each other. The fifty feet between them felt like a great canyon, neither darkner taking the first step forward. Neither one truly wanting to be the first to engage.
“Don’t hold back, Spamton,” Tenna said assuredly.
Spamton took a deep breath, feeling his inner mechanisms whir and click into place. He nodded slowly, his glasses shimmering against the faint light of the Dark Fountain pulsing in the distance.
“Don’t make me, [Cathode].”
Neither of them moved, still as the black desert upon which they stand A faint flicker spread across Tenna’s screen. Turning off with a loud pop, his entire body lowering in preparation to pounce.
Spamton lowered himself to match. He bore his teeth before lurching forward with a single, powerful wingbeat, hoisting himself into the air with his cannon aimed squarely at Tenna’s chest.
A powerful beam of light shot forth from the mouth of the cannon, blocked with ease as Tenna summoned forth an arc of stars, absorbing the blow. Each burst of light Spamton shot connected with a star, breaking line after line until a star managed to break through his defenses and knock him to the ground.
The cannon vanished into pixels. He lifted himself off the ground. Spamton barely gets a moment before pulling his wings in front of himself. Laughing Stars bound across the sand towards Spamton, striking his wings and bursting on impact.
Each strike buffeted wings with a discordant chime. Spamton tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed a plan, a retort to Tenna's onslaught. As the last burst of energy struck his shield of light, Spamton pulled his wings back and took a step towards the TV . That step turned into a run, turning the gap smaller and smaller. Spamton got close enough to see the welding of Tenna's shoulders, raised under his plain white button down. He took a knee and raised his cannon once more. A single pipis shot out, landing at Tenna’s feet, forcing him to step back to prevent the jagged shells from piercing his legs. Miniature copies of the puppet sprang from the little blue egg.
Tenna shrieked as he watched them climb his legs. His mind was so preoccupied by the spamlets that he didn’t even notice the second pipis break against the ground. Or the third, or fourth. The little buggers crawled and bit up his legs and arms. All the added weight caused him to stumble, falling back into the black sands of the desert.
A violent pulse of electricity burst forth from within the TV, a powerful boom sounding around him as it discharged into the ground. The force of the attack caused all the spamitos to vanish into the pixels and left Tenna hissing in pain while he massaged his sore shoulder. Shakily, he pulled himself back to his feet.
“This is quite the powerful body, isn’t it, Spamton?” A toothy grin finally curled across his blackened screen.
Spamton didn’t respond. He simply bore his teeth with a deep snarl, rows upon rows of floating heads bearing his appearance at his sides. Their jaws unhinged one by one, a ball of light bursting forth from between their teeth. All honed in on Tenna. All he could do in response was raise his arms to protect his head, bracing for impact. Each shot struck around him, the sand shifted around Tenna's feet, effectively trapping him in place.
Tenna smiled as he pulled himself free from the sand. Teeth on display like a predator. His shirt was already starting to show signs of wear, small spots of scorching from wherever he had been struck by the light of the flying heads. An arc of electricity passed between his antennae, screen lifting to Spamton.
“Now isn’t that the smooth taste of-”
“NEO!” Spamton interrupted with a roar, his wings arching high above his head.
With a deep swing of his arm, stacks of letters began to rush towards Tenna. They spiraled around the TV darkner, getting closer and closer while he looked for an opening. His shoulder ached as he raised his arm, thumb and finger outstretched into a finger gun as his sights settled on an approaching bomb. That had to be the solution, he thought.
Two shots rang out. The first was aimed at the bomb, bursting with a flash as it burned the surrounding letters. The second one hit the other bomb, hidden squarely behind the first. The same beam of light shot forth and struck Tenna square in the chest with a harsh boom, forcing him to stumble back while Spamton lurched forward.
Tenna’s chest ached, the pain of a direct shot radiated across his entire body. He felt his heart and soul flutter every time he looked at that beautiful beast’s face.
His gaze fell on those claws that Spamton raised high above his head. Despite the clear intention of harm, all Tenna thought about was having those claws running up his arms or carving Spamton’s name deep into his chest.
His claws would catch on each little seam of his chassis, hooking underneath the plastic to open him up and reveal his sensitive wires and armature. Tenna steeled himself, both as an attempt to keep his thoughts in check and to brace for the coming impact.
Another sudden burst of energy sent Tenna back, tumbling and rolling through the sand. The claws Spamton once had were replaced by a cannon, aimed right for his chest with another shot charging up. Everything hurt, the world was spinning and his vision blurring.
Even with Tenna giving his best, Spamton truly was a formidable foe.
No, not formidable.
Tantalyzing.Terrifying. Terrific.
It’s everything Tenna could have asked for. He would have loved to be a more worthy opponent for Spamton, but this is what he wanted. He wanted to be beaten. As long as Spamton could defeat him, could rid Tenna of those horrible memories of the Knight, he knew he would be happy regardless of the pain Spamton brought him.
The barrel’s glow began to burn his vision, engraining its light in his mind. Tenna panicked, frantically thinking of something, anything he could do.
As the shot rang out, Tenna clapped his hands. The sound echoed over the hills with a violent electrical hum.
Spamton found himself sliced in two right through his midsection. His top had shifted at least five feet to the side, the shot from his cannon missing Tenna completely while his legs stayed in place. Arcs of electricity jumped around him, humming with life and so much power it rattled the robot’s teeth as he ran forward to close the gap.
The sudden shift was disorienting for Spamton, but just as he got himself close enough he leapt into the air once more with a powerful wingbeat to tower over Tenna again. The ground quaked and the wind shifted. The TV stared up at his saviour, his Angel, and it looked back with sickening glee.
Tenna snapped his fingers. Spamton’s body became one again, every ounce of electricity converging into one point and striking Spamton from the bottom.
It traveled up through his heel with a powerful boom that sent Tenna stumbling back. Electricity crackled, seams in the NEO body beginning to glow from the new surge of power.
Those gaudy flames glowed too. If Tenna had the time to make a comment he certainly would have.
Spamton fell back to the ground. The force of the fall paired with his weight caused a small crater to fall around him, body rattling and clamoring as everything settled in place.
“Things are HEATING UP!” Tenna roared, heaving himself to his feet.
He rolled his shoulders, gritting his teeth to hide the pain he felt as Spamton pulled himself back up.
Spamton’s mouth slowly widened into a deep and unnerving grin, opening up while a single-second bit-crushed laugh sound effect replayed from his chest.
“[HEATINGUP.MP3]!! HEAHEAHEAEHA!! YOU JUST FILLED MY [Body] WITH [Electricaty]!! ARE YOU READY FOR MY NEXT [Trick]!?” He roared.
The laughter continued to play as Spamton fell back to the ground.
Electricity and light continued to pulse across his entire body. Renewed clunks and whirs sounded over the hills. Tenna stepped back nervously, watching this unfold from a distance. It didn’t look painful, but then again his antennae were skewed in the fight, obscuring his vision.
His sights remained focused on Spamton. He was too transfixed to fight, watching as the sheets of metal began to morph and shift and grow. Their colours darkened, light swallowed by shadow as the form in front of him transformed.
Something entirely new emerged from the shadows; a great towering beast of metal and glass. Smoke billowed from Spamton’s teeth, vents and joints as a giant hand slammed down next to Tenna.
The ground trembled, Tenna was thrown off balance, his shoulders protesting as he broke his fall. Spamton laughed once more, so deep that Tenna could barely hear it over the rumbling bass that shook his internals. In the corner of Tenna’s vision, a single word appeared in vibrant red.
SUCK
The robot’s jaw fell open, a noticeable vacuum beginning to pull Tenna in. Oh, yes, this was definitely his cue to start moving.
Sand and dust began to pick up as Tenna stumbled back, trying to put as much distance between the two of them. Rocks and debris flew past him, all being sucked into Spamton’s gaping maw. Occasionally, one struck Tenna from behind while he continued to stumble in the other direction. The sucked up sands constantly shifted out from under Tenna as he skittered away.Then a minute passed, and Spamton’s jaw snapped shut with a sickening crunch. Relief flooded Tenna’s circuitry
The word in the corner of Tenna’s vision changed, now reading PAUSE.
Tenna laughed, resting his fists on his haunches before raising his hand in a finger gun.
“Is that it?!” He hollered, roaring in laughter, “So much for a GRAND FINALE!”
Another deep, barely audible rumbling laughter began to emit from Spamton’s chest. His mouth pulled back into another devious smirk, his brow hardening into a determined frown.
The word changed again as Spamton’s jaw fell open once more.
SPEW
A subtle glow rose up in the back of his throat while that deep bass continued to paralyze Tenna.
A single shot rang out. A burst of pure light that bore Spamton’s likeness rushed forth to strike his foe. There was no time to move or dodge, and all he could do was brace himself for impact. It felt heavy, surges of electricity and pulsing light mixed with individual granules of sand. It tore through Tenna’s shirt, scratching the chassis underneath. . Tenna panted heavily, an arc of electricity surging between his antennae. Stunned, he watched the next burst of light shoot forth. Quick reaction time was his saving grace, ducking and weaving away from the first few blasts. Maybe Tenna was just lucky. Maybe he still had it.
Spamton's final shot charged and released. Tenna took it squarely to his back, his luck streak running out.
Spamton’s jaw opened wider, practically falling to the ground as a single, final shot emerged. Much bigger than the last, bright enough that it was enough to bathe the entire battlefield in a brilliant white light. Tenna braced himself once more, his chest heaving from his own deepening exhaustion, but right before he felt the ball of pure energy make contact, it vanished.
Nothing remained. Tenna could barely muster the strength to stand, collapsing to a knee while he looked up to his mailman. The massive body that once towered over the world had vanished; returned to the twenty foot NEO body he came to admire. The Hot Rod flames stopped glowing as the last of the overwhelming power vanished, his wings flickering with each subtle flap.
Neither made a move for a single moment that stretched on for eternity, sights fixed on each other. Spamton stood tall, the only sign of exhaustion being the subtle clouds of smoke that seeped out of his vents and mouth with each deep exhale. Tenna, on the other hand, barely had the strength to lift a finger.
He didn't want to give up though. Giving up was weak. He certainly wouldn't have given up against The Knight.
A spark of electricity surged between his antennae as Tenna tried to hoist himself back up to his feet, the weight of his own body lurching forward and causing him to stumble back down to his knees. Spamton in turn, bore his teeth with a knowing scowl as he raised his hands one last time.
He looked so beautiful like this. The last thing he’d see. His salvation. His joy. His Freedom.
Before Tenna had the time to protest, two screens of vibrant green and black light appeared in the sky between them. And with a single swing of Spamton’s arms, the screens crashed down.
…
A deep, low rumble played across Tenna's senses when he finally came to. Quiet enough that it wouldn't have threatened to wake him, but still strong enough that it rattled the sand that surrounded them. A heavy presence weighed on his chest, his own star shaped soul reverberating with every pulse, every deep inhale, every minor shift of weight.
Tenna could feel Spamton's thumb brushing against his shoulder as soft as this gargantuan body could muster, the subtle warmth his hand emanated working to soothe the dull ache of his mending joints. A simple, tender moment. Tenna sorely missed those.
Quiet, peaceful, heavenly.
The low bass of Spamton's purr halted for just a moment as he turned his head to look the opposite direction, shifting his hands so they could rest upon his other shoulder before it started anew.
How selfish of Tenna; to keep his screen black, his body perfectly still so that this moment could last even longer. Just another moment that he could stretch on to eternity in his mind. A new memory he could replay over and over.
Then, as he allowed himself to focus on the rumble emanating from Spamton's chest and throat, he could feel the pain in his shoulders vanish completely.
It would be cruel to make his little mailman fret any longer, wouldn't it?
Slowly, using all the strength and grace that Tenna could muster, he raised a hand and set it down against Spamton's head.
The sudden movement brought Spamton's attention right back to the present, his pink and gold goggles casting the light of Tenna's newly illuminated screen right back at him as he tangled his fingers in his hair.
“[Cathode!]” Spamton chirped, his voice filled with equal parts worry and relief as he pulled himself off of his chest.
“Hey, don't get up now I was just starting to enjoy myself…” Tenna joked, reaching up to caress his cheek and gently guide him back down.
He felt the robot's chest depress as he lowered himself, chin carefully set on his sternum to look deep into his screen.
“.... [Feelin’ Fine]?” He asked, his brow softening while he set a hand against Tenna's shoulder again.
“Better than fine. I feel like a million bucks. That was incredible, Spamton….” A short chuckle forced its way past his parted lips, “I haven't felt this good in years.”
Spamton's head fell to the side, his cheek resting in his chest once more.
“I've [Still] got it.”
“I'd say so. But uh, hey…. Now that I'm working back at a hundred percent, why don't we—”
Suddenly Spamton's face turned deep red, shooting right up to point an accusatory finger at the TV. “I'M NOT [Thrashing] YOU AGAIN [Trash Heap]!”
Tenna simply laughed, gently guiding him back down to lay on his chest again. The red slowly dissipated, the heat radiating from his face being absorbed comfortably into Tenna's chassis. While he calmed down, though, Tenna could feel something else. The subtle prickle of raw power vanishing, chunks of pixels freeing themselves from Spamton's body to vanish into the aether.
This body must be breaking down again despite the fact that Spamton must have held on for as long as possible. The vanishing pieces got bigger, large swathes of them slipping away while Spamton clung to his partner.
“I was going to say…” Tenna began, carefully hoisting himself up into a sitting position with his arms carefully wrapped around Spamton to keep him from falling, “.... That we could start putting some serious thought into finally starting up season nine of TV Time?”
Tenna smiled, his screen tinted pink while he gently ran his thumb over Spamton's wooden cheek. His jaw clattered excitedly in response, his eyes softening with that subtle glint that Tenna loved to see.
It was the spark of an idea, those gears turning in his head that always brought about something big.
“yEAH— THE SPA[Spamton G. Spamton] AND [Trash Heap]’S BIG COMEBACK [Specil]!!” He announced gleefully as he sat down on Tenna's bare shoulders.
The weight didn't ache or cause Tenna to sneer, and Spamton's wandering hand resting upon the filigree copper casing brought a deep red tint to Tenna's screen. He could feel each individual finger, delicately dancing across the plastic and metal as if his touch would still bring him pain.
Tenna didn't say anything about it while he walked away. A little more tenderness was just what they needed.