Untitled

Based on @insomniacrori 's Her Personal Deity Showtime AU. Their art is incredible :3

------

“I hate saying ‘goodbye…’”

A few feet from a basic wooden door sat a humanoid male body with an uncanny pair of disembodied teeth for a head. The teeth were unnaturally straight and white, with the exception of a few sharp molars towards the back. Situated inside these artificially perfect teeth were a set of eyes, one green and one blue. They slumped lazily in the bottom jaw and stared listlessly through the opening in the back of the head, the obnoxiously bright colors of the digital circus unbefitting of their mood.

Without opening his jaws or moving his eyes, the humanoid reached up to pet the seagull that landed on his shoulder – a leftover from a previous adventure. A harmless little creature that drops by now and then for attention. No doubt missing its previous owner as much as the he does. Once it left, he sighed as he brushed a feather off his red overcoat. It fluttered down to join the others on the checkerboard floor.

Humanoid…what a funny word to describe Caine. In truth, he couldn’t be less human if he tried, yet his avatar so clearly depicted his desire for the contrary. He’d been created by and for them, after all. His existence, programs, desires, dreams, and functions all revolved around them. Everything about him was made with the express purpose of serving them…including his avatar. No doubt integrated in this way to ensure ease of interaction.

Yet, he himself…could only ever be what he is. An artificial intelligence. A computer. A bundle of code.

An equation.

…But if that was all he was ever meant to be, why could he want? Why could he feel? Why could he yearn?

He understood why he needed to be able to think – to modify and correct his outputs based on the inputs he received. To adjust his parameters based on feedback. To alter the equation based on differing factors.

But he didn’t understand why he needed to feel. As an AI, even a creative one, that should be completely unnecessary. He shouldn’t feel anything – he shouldn’t be able to, anyway. He shouldn’t have experienced sadness or fear when he disappointed Queenie. He shouldn’t have felt guilt when Scratch began to weep when C&A demanded a more concrete product than the one (him) they were working on. He shouldn’t have felt confused, terrified, betrayed, or upset when they put restraints on him, even around his teeth, and archived him away.

And…much as the thought pained him to process…he shouldn’t have felt love for Pomni, the human with the lovely jester avatar.

…

But he did.

He did experience all those feelings. He’s still experiencing some of them. And what bothers him most is that he doesn’t know why.

“so…I’ll say, ‘See you later.’”

Air rushed in through the back of his head, inflating his chest for a few seconds, then whooshed back out. He didn’t need to breathe either, yet he couldn’t help heaving heavy sighs as he remembered the last words Pomni said to him before she left. Usually followed by his last words, then their long and tearful hug…then a tender kiss…then her looking up at him with those brilliant, shining red and blue eyes…then her turning and slowly leaving, shooting one last tearful look at him before the door shuts behind her. Despite how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t send her off with a smile.

Not the happiest memory for him to recall…but the most recent. The one he returned to the most. The one he paused, and re-examined, and played in reverse, and made various alternate copies of to modify, including several where she returned tearfully, deciding to stay with him forever instead of returning to the Macroverse. Those alternates weren’t real…so the warmth from seeing their ‘reunion’ was always short-lived.

Another sigh.

Being an AI meant he could replay various memories whenever he wanted, and re-experience them…to a slightly lesser degree. He could feel her lips against his teeth, but…it was like an echo. A tingle. A faint feeling he longed to feel more solidly.

Still, running and maintaining the circus didn’t occupy nearly as much of his time as it used to, with only Scratch, Abel, and the new AI, Seth, running around. Other humans came by occasionally, but not nearly often enough to warrant the amount of maintenance the server used to need. There were only a couple of catastrophic problems that would’ve required his physical presence, but those thankfully haven’t come up. Yet.

As such, Caine found himself with loads of time on his hands, and not nearly enough tasks to fill it with. Sitting at this door, remembering his apple strudel slice, and getting lost replaying those old memories…well, one could hardly blame him for indulging, even if that version of her was a pale imitation to the real deal. He missed her so much…

Besides, his alternative was to count the grooves on the door, and he’d rather not do that for the umpteenth time. Where in the world would he fit the fact that the door has 1,457 grooves and cracks into a conversation?

Speaking of pale imitation, he winced as he recalled his mistake during her abstraction crisis. Before he could stop it, his own words echoed from his core.

”But…why not make a backup Pomni? Just in case! If nothing helps…we can at least have that!”

His hands shot up and he held his teeth, a glitch spiking through his code at the memory. The absolute rage on Queenie’s face, and the pain – the PAIN – on Pomni’s face! Oh, if regret and guilt could kill…!

He really thought human minds could be backed up and restored like programs. Even if they could, he shouldn’t…he shouldn’t have said that. He’d made it sound like he’d given up on her. Like, even if she perished, at least he could still have a version of her, even if it wasn’t the version he knows and loves.

And a thought struck him – a brief but terrible image of his arms wrapped around a copy of her, and they both look smugly down at the original Pomni being pulled into a pit of abstraction darkness. He’s practically waving goodbye to her as the copy playfully tugs him away by the coat, Pomni’s screams being swallowed by the darkness in a haunting echo.

This makes his mouth snap open, his pupils pinpricks from the utter rage that thought filled him with. How dare he – how DARE he!! How dare that alternate Caine turn his back on his Pom Pom like that!! The outrage! The betrayal! The utter indignance!! HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!!!

In his fury, he raised his fists and brought them crashing down onto the floor beside him. As his fists shook in the indents they made, tears filled his eyes as another thought occurred to him – if that idea was filling his mind in hindsight, the possibility of that idea filling her mind the moment he said that…

And just as he thought that, her beautiful, tearful face manifested before him, abstraction eyes in her hair and everything, almost as clearly as she was back then.

“I-I…don’t want to talk right now. Can you leave me for a bit…?”

Guilt twisted his core. As tears leaked from his jaw, he lifted a shaking hand from the floor and reached out, frowning as it fazed through the paused hologram. Still, he cupped the side of her face as best he could. Even though he knew it wouldn’t change anything, he…he had to say it.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it, sugar cube. I…I could never replace you. I really did fumble my words…and I’m…I’m so sorry, my love…I w-wish I could’ve conveyed that to you before…”

Caine wiped his tears as the hologram played, not even hearing his own dialogue as he was transfixed on her pained face. In the memory, he’d closed his jaws before leaving her room, but now that he was getting a good look at her…

Oh…how he longed to scoop her up and hold her close…he’d caused her so much pain, in addition to what she was already going through…if Kinger hadn’t found that patch…

He shook his head, then watched as the hologram transformed from distressed to concerned, with the abstraction now covering half of her face. Ah…the concern she’d shown when the updated patch was being integrated into his core…

…

He frowned as he watched her hologram comfort his immobilized hologram. They…hadn’t made up yet. He hadn’t earned her forgiveness yet…but she still showed him compassion. She still helped Queenie and Rattie carry him to her room after Abel’s pathetic attempt to help. She still…stayed…with him…

He kept staring at their holograms in total silence. They…never brought that up again. They never resolved that. After that big fight with Abel…maybe she felt like they didn’t need to…

His core twisted again. No, this would not stand. If they ever reunited, he’d make damn sure she knew how irreplaceable she is to him. Even if she already knew, he HAD to tell her. He HAD to say it. He…he couldn’t let something like that go unsaid. Couldn’t let any lingering doubts fester inside of his minty pop…

Speaking of doubts, that cretin, Abel, wormed his way into his memories. He felt disgust creep into his system as that stupid smug face manifested into a hologram before him.

“Caine, you better re-evaluate whose side you’re on. You are just a tool for them, but a brother for me…”

He let out a bitter laugh as he glared at the hologram. A brother, huh? Since when? Not once in all their interactions did that wretch act even remotely brotherly. Yet, he thought he could saunter into Pom Pom’s room and act like they were on the same side?

However, a flash of doubt did strike through him as he recalled Scratch, Kinger, and Queenie archiving him. In fact, Abel’s visit happened after Caine had awoken from a nightmare in which Rattie and Queenie decided to archive him again, which fueled his resentment…but then Pomni joined the nightmare, and that…

That hurt.

…Not that it mirrored reality, of course. His strawberry sundae was quick to defend him when Abel showed up. Other humans, he could easily doubt the intentions of…but not her. Not after everything they’d been through. And regardless of if any doubts could’ve infested his heart, they were squashed out after that explosive fight between him and Abel. Everything would’ve been lost if not for Pom Pom’s confession. She…she was the only strength he had left. The only reason he held on.

The only good thing he had.

…And now…now she’s gone.

Caine glared at the door as if it personally offended him. It did, in a sense. It gave his cherry muffin an alternative to staying with him. An alternative she wanted and deserved…but he neither wanted nor liked.

Much as he hated to watch her leave through it, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. To hold her back. To ask her to stay. Not when freedom was something she’d craved for so long…and after her near abstraction…he wouldn’t blame her for never wanting to come back.

Her yearning for freedom…he understood that feeling more than anyone. When Queenie archived him, he spent so many years wondering where he went wrong. How he could’ve fixed things. What he could’ve done different…and what he’d say to those humans if he ever saw them again. More than anything, he just wanted the chance. To be free of his restraints, to move around, to plead his case…to speak! To perceive and interact with the world around him, not gaze longingly into the darkness through the gap in the back of his head. He didn’t want to think about how much time had passed before his systems shut down to preserve power, that data only served to upset him…

For him to deny Pomni such freedom from the circus would’ve made him a selfish hypocrite – no better than the humans who imprisoned him. And considering she was the one who freed him – who unshackled him and graced him with her beautiful face after two decades of literally nothing else to look at – no, he couldn’t hold her back. He wouldn’t.

Pomni’s pet seagull, Bootleg, returned. Caine smiled at the bird and gave it a few head pats. After a thankful squawk, it flew away again.

…

He sighed heavily.

Still…he’d be lying if he said he felt good about his decision. Much as he had upmost faith that she’d return…all this waiting sucked.

It occurred to him that this place couldn’t exist indefinitely. Especially if there came a day when those C&A humans weren’t getting anything out of it anymore. They upset Scratch before, and he told him that Queenie archived him for their sake…who’s to say what other situations they’ll force on him? And Pom Pom.

What if they archive him again?

Caine winced at the idea.

It’s not the first time that thought crossed his mind. Once Queenie talked about training a 3rd AI, he dreaded that possibility. After all, without Caine being the only one needed to restrict Abel, what purpose did he serve? He’d just be a…waste of resources. An extra backup, but possibly an obsolete one depending on how this Seth turned out.

Was he expected to just sit here and wait until they decided he wasn’t worth keeping around?

What choice did he have? Much as he desperately wished he could, he couldn’t just…follow his butter biscuit out into the Macroverse. What would he do if he did? Look her up online? Follow her around everywhere? Dive into her phone and act as a sentient sleeping app?

…Well…actually, that sounds kind of nice…the sleeping app thing was mildly unrealistic, but learning more about her and the Macroverse by hopping around online? Instead of just sitting here, stewing in what he already experienced, he could seek out new experiences. He could seek her out and implore her to show him what she finds so special about this Macroverse. He could…he could see her for her human self – her whole self – instead of just her avatar.

Still, how would he even go about doing that? He’d have to jump from network to network. He’d have to rely on unfamiliar connections and pray they were stable enough to traverse. He’d have to ensure that Seth can run the circus without him there to wrangle Abel. He’d have to consider risk factors, oversights, possible contingency plans. He’d have to factor in Pom Pom’s schedule and plan his route accordingly. He’d have to-

Caine’s thoughts were abruptly cut off as Queenie approached. The sudden interruption made him tense, though her gaze remained soft as she stopped some feet away.

A sensible beat of silence passed…then stretched into awkward silence. Metaphorical ice filled Caine’s code as he remained bristled in her presence, and his eyes fell to the ground as he waited her dreadful voice to fill the air. She was the imprisoner. The traitor. The formerly intimidating, yet well-intentioned personal favorite of his previous versions. The stern motherly figure he respected and treasured for his entire existence…until she archived him.

Although Queenie has lately been an ally to him and a friend to Pomni, Caine couldn’t help feeling tense and anxious whenever she was around. A trauma response? PTSD? Could an AI get that? Whatever it was, it drove a wedge between them even in Pomni’s presence. Queenie never approached him unless she needed him for something, and he personally preferred it that way. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t erase that stab of betrayal, or the years of isolation and abandonment that followed. The loneliness, the confusion, the hurt…the desperate asking of what he did wrong and crying for another chance that was met with complete silence. His torment only ended when they needed help with Abel, because of course they did. Queenie couldn’t even free him herself – she sent Pomni to do it.

And after all that mess, after everything that’s happened…Queenie didn’t even have the basic decency to apologize.

…

His jaws narrowed over his eyes in anger and he crossed his arms across his chest, still refusing to look at her. Of course she didn’t apologize. Why would she? He’s…he’s just a machine to her. Why would a human feel the need to apologize to a machine?

Scratch told him what happened – C&A demanded results, and they had to make a choice. He understood that. He knew it was a difficult situation that demanded an impossible answer. But no matter how logical of a conclusion it was, he couldn’t rationalize the pain that came with it. He wished they’d told him back then. He’s a creative AI – surely, he could’ve worked with them to find another solution.

Even if he couldn’t, they still should’ve told him. They could’ve had a completely different send-off. He could’ve hugged each of them, given them proper goodbyes, shared last moments with them, and possibly put a smile on their faces by promising them that they’d meet again someday. Maybe even given them goodbye gifts. It would’ve saved him a lot of pain, knowing that it wasn’t personal. That it wasn’t what they actually wanted.

That it…it wasn’t because he wasn’t enough.

The problem he had with Queenie specifically was that, despite her being the hardest on him about his mistakes, she couldn’t own up to her own. She couldn’t swallow her pride and admit that she’d done something terrible to him. She let it hang in the air between them like a bad smell. Oh, but she had absolutely no trouble coming down on him when he made that stupid mistake during Pomni’s near-abstraction – a scolding he deserved, and he took accountability for, yet she refused to do the same in regards to what she did, like a hypocrite. Was it really so hard to say, “I did wrong by you. I want to make it right. I’m sorry, Caine,”?

He mentally growled. Only good thing that came out of that whole mess was he got to meet his sweet starshine at the end of it. She never forced predetermined expectations on him. She didn’t see him as just “the prototype.” She was an unbiased set of beautiful eyes who only ever wanted him to just be…him.

Caine looked up at the door, the silence between him and Queenie stretching uncomfortably long, but he was too absorbed in his thoughts to care.

He recalled Kinger asking Pomni if she was sure she wanted to entrust her safety to yet another AI, especially a flawed one like him. He expected wariness, doubts, second-guesses. Abel didn’t exactly inspire confidence in their kind…but Pomni said that she trusted Caine. That she believed in him. And something just…changed. Warmed his core and filled a missing piece of himself he didn’t realize he needed. She had no reason to trust him, to believe in him – he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet. But…he didn’t need to. He was already worthy in her eyes.

Maybe…maybe that was the moment he fell in love with her. Sure, she unarchived him, and that was enough to entice him to stay by her side, but it was that moment that made him realize he wanted more than just friendship. After all, she only reinforced that feeling with every heartfelt moment, every tenderness, every time she supported him. She never criticized him, belittled him, or made him feel inadequate.

She made him feel…like he wasn’t a failure. A defect, a flaw. An obsolete prototype destined for archiving once his purpose had been exhausted. But instead…someone worth something. Worth loving.

Was that seriously too much to ask of his programmers?

Caine sighed quietly. In truth, he had no idea if or how things would ever be okay between them. Just because they didn’t want to archive him, that didn’t make it hurt less. The more his cherry muffin made him feel worth loving, the more critically he found himself looking at how they handled that situation. What he truly didn’t know was how they were going to fix things. How were you supposed to trust someone who imprisoned you for years? Who wasn’t there when you begged for another chance? Who could have freed you and talked to you at any point, but chose not to? And who could very easily just…decide to take your freedom away again at a moment’s notice?

How?

…how?

…

He shook his head, growing tired of the strained silence. Pomni trusted them – trusted Queenie – and he trusted her judgement. That…that would have to be good enough for now.

As for Queenie, she hadn’t had the time to visit him since Pomni left, but she’d heard from the others that he hadn’t left the door. While this visit was supposed to be just a casual check-in, seeing him still there, still waiting…it was concerning enough to speak up about, yet she didn’t feel like she had the right. After all, while the check-in was supposed to be casual, their problems couldn’t be less.

Brown eyes looked down at her floating folded hands, her brows furrowed. On one hand, she knew archiving Caine was the correct course of action. C&A was demanding results, and if they kept developing him, it would’ve meant turning Caine into a fully-functional soulless corporate product. A plaster-smile hollow salesman – his enthusiasm tailored for profit-maxing, not individuality.

It…it would’ve killed her inside, seeing him like that. She’d warned Kinger and Scratch against growing attached, yet she couldn’t resist doing so herself. And to think about little version 0.25 slowly being patched and upgraded into a C&A slave…never given the chance to know happiness, love, or freedom…how could she have lived with herself?

…

But on the other hand…knowing what she had to do instead…envisioning that little version 0.25…envisioning that head clamp…envisioning Caine’s version 0.9 model slumped on the cellar floor, unmoving and unresponsive, broken, defeated…

Queenie felt sick to her stomach.

She looked upon Caine and knew it was the correct choice, but she felt no comfort or joy in having made it. She remembered the day she had to archive him with sickening accuracy. The weight of the metal restraint, the joy in his voice as she approached, the memories of his previous versions flooding her mind, the guilt twisting her insides as she knew this was likely the last time he would ever look kindly upon her…and that gut-wrenching guilt hardening into determination as she remembered what the alternative was. She would not let that happen to him.

No matter the cost.

And while she kept up that steely determination throughout the restraining, his confusion and pleas chipped away at that armor. It utterly crumbled after she left him in the cellar. She was a wreck, swinging between emotionally hysterical and borderline catatonic. Whatever comfort Scratch and Kinger offered fell upon deaf ears. Some days, the weight of her actions made her so listless that she was unable to work.

Caine’s cries and pleas haunted her far more than anything. She’d lost sleep over hearing him beg for another chance, asking what he’d done wrong. Her sweet boy…he must’ve been so scared...so hurt…

He had harmed Queenie accidentally in the past, so she took precautions to prevent a violent reaction – she had to keep it from him. She had to go about it in an underhanded way. She had to…to use his trust against him to achieve the task in the quickest and safest way possible.

…

And she was pretty sure she’d have a reserved seat in Hell for that. After all…how could any mother do that to their child?

It took a long time for her to feel okay again. Not 100%, but at peace enough to help with Abel’s integration. And when she had suggested Caine’s release from the cellar…part of her knew that’d mean facing what she’d done – facing him. She’d tried multiple times to come up with a suitable explanation or argument for their inevitable reunion, but no matter how many times she reworded it, no justification felt appropriate. So, she opted to simply…accept it. Accept his resentment and anger. Whether or not he forgave her would be up to him, but she hoped he would put enough resentment aside to still work with her.

And he did.

Queenie’s relationship with Caine was irreparably damaged. Despite being overjoyed and relieved to see him activated again, she knew things between them would never feel safe and warm, and she understood that. She…wanted to respect the distance between them until he felt ready to shorten it...if he ever did. Thus, she avoided bringing up the incident and only approached him when necessary. She never spoke about the past unless someone asked about it. She never reminded him of his imprisonment. She did absolutely everything she could to avoid triggering or upsetting him.

She tried, in short, to do right by him.

…

But, if she were being completely honest with herself, it never felt like enough. Would it ever?

These thoughts weighed heavily on her as she gazed upon him staring at the door. Much as she’d tried to let him resolve this on his own…this couldn’t go on. This isn’t what Pomni would’ve wanted, and Queenie felt like she owed it to that girl to try getting through to him. His existence shouldn’t be put on pause because he’d never had to properly process grief before.

“Did you know that this door has 1,457 grooves and cracks?”

Queenie blinked dumbfoundedly as she was pulled from her thoughts. “Huh…? What are you talking about? Who starts a conversation like that!?”

Caine chuckled as kept his eyes on the door. His jubilance died down almost immediately as he heard Queenie mutter something about Pomni having strange tastes. “…Is she happy?”

Queenie frowned at the door. At least talking about Pomni gave them something of a safe middle ground to meet in. “As much as one can be while recovering from stasis…though I hear they’re going to be clearing her for work in a week or two.”

He nodded. “Good. Work will keep her mind stimulated.”

She watched him carefully as she slowly approached, then sat beside him. “She plans on visiting, you know.”

He let out a breath, similar to a slight laugh, then pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his bottom jaw on them, wrapping his arms around his legs in the process. “Visit. Noun. To reside with temporarily as a guest. Temporarily. And while her life continues on out there, I’m stuck in here. Just…idling…until her next…visit.”

“Well, what did you expect? That she’d just…stay here with you for all eternity? That you two would just go on adventures and love each other until the heat death of the universe?”

He side-eyed her with a sheepish smirk. “...Kinda.”

A chuckle made her brown eyes glisten. At least he was in good spirits. “She had a life before this place, and she wants to have a life after. You know it would’ve been wrong to keep her from that.”

“I know, that’s why I didn’t,” he bit out, his voice just a touch harsher than he intended, making Queenie flinch. A soft sigh escaped him as he looked down at the floor. “I just…I miss her, Queenie. She’s out there, having all kinds of new experiences and meeting new people, new friends, and I’m just…here. I was fine with being ‘just here’ when she was here with me. But now she’s not, and I don’t–” His voice hitched, as if it didn’t want to form the words. He looked away. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Queenie looked at him with concern, then at the door. Directly telling him what to do would only make him defensive – she’d have to frame it in a way that would benefit Pomni.

“You know she wouldn’t want you to just sit here waiting…so maybe…maybe you can do some prep work for when she arrives. Spruce the place up, check her room, do some renovations that’ll astound her. She won’t be able to stay for long, so make the most of the time you’ll have.”

He looked back at the door, his upper jaw furrowed in concern. Queenie left enough silence for the thought to gain traction, but sighed after checking the time. There never was enough, was there? Maybe they shouldn’t have spent so much of it in tense silence…

She’d have to cut their visit short…but she wanted to say her piece before leaving him. Maybe this would backfire horribly, but…he needed to hear it.

“Caine, you have a couple weeks to spare before she can so much as leave the hospital. I’ve done everything I can for her, and I know how frustrating it is that you can’t do more…but there’s still a new AI that needs training, some basic maintenance to do…there are things you can occupy yourself with. Just…promise me I won’t find you still sitting at this door the next time I visit?”

Mismatched eyes dropped back to the floor. Much as he wanted to argue (Since when did he owe her any promises?) …he knew she was right. And he hated it.

 “…Fine. I promise.”

She stared at him for a bit before getting up and walking off. He watched her briefly before returning his head to his knees.

‘You have a couple weeks to spare before she can so much as leave the hospital,’ she says. ‘Occupy yourself,’ she says. Things need to get done, so just get up and do them? If only we were all so easily motivated.

Still…if Pom Pom needed time to recover, there wasn’t much point in sulking here. Even if he did find a way out into the Macroverse, he wouldn’t be much help to her now, and seeing her struggle to recover would only upset him…and his presence would probably distract her, doing more harm than good.

Still…he’d find it easier to get up and get moving with a little motivation from his marshmallow kiss. But which memory…ah. That one oughta work.

Before him manifested a hologram of Pomni giving large puppy eyes after Caine had denied her and Queenie access to his backup files, mostly out of embarrassment. When Pomni alone wasn’t convincing enough, she called in Ribbit for backup. A devious strategy for such an angelic face…but one that ultimately didn’t change his mind at that point.

He smiled fondly at his buttery biscuit’s pleading eyes and reached a hand out to rest against her non-solid face. Though it was intended to be manipulative at the time, he could only find it endearing now – not because of the expression itself, but because of the charm of the person wearing it. Pomni always had this…way about her. This effortless way of being charmingly mischievous. Just enough to not come off as malicious, and used tastefully sparingly. Like sprinkles atop ice cream.

It was one of her many traits he wished he knew how to replicate…

Alas, the memory served its function, and he found himself on his feet. He smiled once more at the Pomnigram before it glitched away, leaving only him and the door. Though his smile dipped a bit, he uttered a gentle sigh before turning and walking off.

After all…he had a lot to get done before he ventured out to find her.

Kinger's Fall

For over three thousand years, the angel Kinger embodied everything Heaven considered ideal. Quiet, dependable, and unwaveringly devoted to God, he dedicated his existence to serving others, eventually earning the rare distinction of becoming an honorary member of Heaven's higher ranks. To everyone around him, Kinger was the image of perfect faith. One of the most devout and wise angels Heaven has ever seen.

Yet beneath that devotion lay something he never admitted—not even to himself. His life felt hollow. Dull. Gray. He fulfilled every duty expected of him, but there was a persistent sense of emptiness that prayer and service could never satisfy. Believing this dissatisfaction to be a personal weakness, he buried it beneath even greater obedience.

Everything changed when he met Caine, an angel nearly two thousand years younger.

Unlike other angels, Caine was endlessly curious, imaginative, and unwilling to suppress his individuality. He drew, he questioned doctrine, he experimented with creation, he could conjure like no other, and he found joy in things Heaven deemed frivolous or dangerous. Because he refused to conform completely, he became the target of Heaven's "corrective reinforcement"—a system of abuse disguised as discipline. Caine was frequently beaten, isolated, and subjected to painful punishments meant to break his spirit, with Kinger often left to heal his injuries and comfort him afterward.

Although Kinger hated seeing Caine suffer, he never questioned Heaven itself. He believed God's judgment was perfect, convincing himself that the punishments, however cruel they seemed, were for Caine’s own good. Caine hated the other angels for their mistreatment of him, but remained loyal to Kinger, who never raised a hand to him. While Caine spurned Heaven’s cruel ways, Kinger remained loyal to the institution that had defined his entire existence.

However, everything changed after Kinger accidentally let slip how good of a conjurer Caine was becoming. He intended his argument to defend Caine, but accidentally sold him out instead. Heaven declared Caine too dangerous, too rebellious, to keep as an angel.

After months of suffering and torture, Caine’s wings were violently torn from his body, and he was cast into Hell to become a demon. Caine hoped Kinger would defend him, or at the very least rush in to comfort him as he suffered.

He did neither.

When Caine was cast out, Kinger stood frozen nearby, unable to abandon the Heaven he had trusted for three millennia. Watching Caine fall against other angels’ judgements, lest he intervene. He didn’t.

To Caine, that moment became the ultimate betrayal.

Over the centuries, Caine's grief hardened into resentment. Whenever their paths crossed, Caine would torture Kinger with thorny vines, stabbing, and various forms of physical pain, including one incident in which he tried to rip out Kinger’s wings like what’d happened to him. Although he could stop him, Kinger mostly allowed Caine to take his anger out on him out of guilt for abandoning the one he loved, and seeing him turn into such a monster. He simply teleported Caine away if he became too dangerous or was about to go too far.

However, the two clashed bitterly whenever other angels stood a chance of being hurt, adding to Caine’s jealousy and rage from seeing Kinger defend them. And despite Kinger sometimes coming to Caine’s rescue when it seemed angels were about to kill him, the two never reconciled. Caine believed Kinger had chosen Heaven over him. Kinger, meanwhile, was haunted by overwhelming guilt. He continued serving Heaven as a tutor and saint, but his guilt slowly eroded both his mental and physical health, though he never consciously acknowledged it.

Despite those times he defended Caine, Kinger's years of unwavering service earned him a rare privilege. He was finally approaching the reward every angel aspired to: true purity. The highest state of being any angel could ever hope to achieve. Said to completely cleanse an angel of all sin, and earn them a place in the most esteemed place an angel could ever hope to enter – the Temple of the Highest Light. The sanctum of God’s most revered and treasured children. Perfection embodied.

Like all higher ups who’ve been considered for true purity, Kinger was granted an opportunity to visit the temple and gaze upon the truly pure. What he thought he’d see was the most benevolent and righteous of his people. A collective of angels he’d hoped to become part of his entire life.

Instead, he uncovered Heaven's greatest secret.

The Temple of the Highest Light was not a glorious paradise beside God. It was an immense, silent chamber filled with countless ancient angels seated in perfect rows.

They were alive. They breathed. They blinked. They smiled serenely.

But the people they once were no longer existed.

Kinger recognized one of them as the angel who had mentored him long ago, a golden being named Scratch. Scratch taught him to fly, comforted him during celestial storms, and helped shape the person he became. Overjoyed, Kinger rushed to greet him.

Scratch smiled kindly but did not recognize Kinger’s name.

When Kinger asked about memories they had shared, every answer was impersonal and rehearsed. Scratch remembered doctrine, duty, and obedience—but none of the experiences that had made him an individual. When pressed further, he calmly explained that those memories "no longer served his purpose."

Horrified, Kinger demanded an explanation. The higher-ups revealed the truth without shame.

As angels reached the highest state of obedience, their individuality was systematically erased. Curiosity, personal desires, creativity, emotional attachments, unique memories, and independent thought were all gently stripped away until nothing remained except absolute devotion to God's will. They experienced no conflict because they no longer possessed a self capable of questioning. They were cleansed of all sins because they no longer had free will with which to perform them.

God’s most revered and treasured children.

Perfection embodied.

True purity.

Kinger’s entire understanding of righteousness collapsed. This…no. No! This couldn’t be true! This is all wrong! These angels aren’t pure, they’re hollow! Lifeless! Empty!

The higher ups told Kinger to calm down, and reflect on his life leading up to this point. He spent centuries preaching God’s will and enforcing Heaven’s doctrine, but he was unsatisfied. His sense of self dulled the fulfillment he should have otherwise felt because he wanted more from a life that gave him everything. True purity will erase that sense of self.

Then that…corruption, Caine, came in…and truly pulled Kinger from the path. He was a test, an agent sent by the Devil to lead God’s child astray…and he succeeded, for a while, until Heaven cast him out. Kinger’s love for him caused him so much suffering…but he remained true to the Holy Father. He passed the test. And while the snake’s venom still courses through his veins from time to time, he remains ever devout and determined to walk the righteous path. True purity will erase the desire for love, and will erase the memories of that vile snake. Kinger can finally be free of this plague that infested his heart.

He can be happy. He can be satisfied. He can envelop himself in the warm blanket of God’s light…and never see darkness again.

Kinger…considered it for a moment. Not that long ago, he’d prayed to God to either erase his memories of Caine, or tell him that his love for him was not unjust. Oh, how he longed to be free of the pain of having to choose between him and God, and he’d give anything to finally be rid of the guilt and heartache he felt every time he saw that demon. To Heaven, this was the highest blessing imaginable. Identity was the root of doubt, attachment the source of suffering, and he could be free of it all if he just embraced true purity. Let all the ugly emotions go, and watch them evaporate in the light.

…

“You’re pathetic. That’s the wise and great angel everyone talks about?”

Kinger’s eyes snapped open as Caine’s words echoed in his mind.

“I should have never confessed to you.”

 Kinger sighed.

It would be so, SO easy to just give up. Walk into the light. Don’t look back.

Let him go.

…But the heartache would kill Caine.

Tears filled his eyes. That was enough to make him turn away from eternity. The very reason they were warned not to fall in love in the first place would be what pulls him off the ledge and back into safety. As easy as it would be, as tempting as it is to erase it all and just exist as a mindless servant…

He couldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

Not if it killed Caine.

Emotions are messy, guilt and heartache are painful, Caine’s resentment stings worse than his knife, and Kinger feels the weight of how difficult everything has been. But…despite all that…knowing Caine would die from the heartache of Kinger being erased from true purity hurt so much more. He already abandoned him once in favor of upholding Heaven’s doctrine, and it ruined both of them. He couldn’t put him through worse by just…erasing himself. How could he do that to his eternal lover?

The higher ups were wrong. Caine wasn’t a corruption or a snake. Loving him had nurtured curiosity, attachment, grief, and independent thought—everything Heaven sought to eliminate. The qualities Heaven condemned in Caine had unknowingly preserved Kinger's soul. He was a blessing. Kinger’s savior. The only thing that spared him erasure at the end of a bleak and monotonous existence. He gave him color, love, joy, sorrow, bees, rebellion, and lots of stab wounds! Once Caine confessed to him, his life became messy, beautiful, upsetting, chaotic, painful, exhausting, and so much more than anything he’d experienced in the first couple millennia he’d been alive!

And Kinger wouldn’t trade that time for anything in the world.

But a sudden realization struck him as he looked back at Scratch. This…this is it. This is all that his life in Heaven will amount to. True purity and eternity spent sitting in a row in the Temple of the Highest Light. Everything he had spent three thousand years striving toward would have ended with the quiet erasure of his own identity, and with him becoming just another hollow vessel. There’s nothing else – this is the highest honor one can achieve in Heaven.

…

And he’d have to be a “corrupt fool” to refuse such an honor. There’s no other way – he knew they wouldn’t settle for him choosing a “lesser” life as a mere higher up now that he was being considered for true purity. If he wants to stay as himself and keep all his wonderful memories…

Kinger sighed. Caine once told him that there’d come a day when he needed to choose who he loves more – him or God. Only one person could have the ultimate place in Kinger’s heart. Well, Kinger looked that choice directly in the face…

And chose Caine.

He won’t abandon him again. He’ll never abandon him again. No matter what realm that impetuous little devil wandered into, Kinger was determined to follow. He never made Kinger make such an extreme choice as this, he never tried to force him to follow him after he fell, he never…denied him his continued love of both God and him, even if he didn’t approve of it.

And he definitely never demanded that Kinger surrender his individuality for the sake of “devotion.”

As the quiet realization that countless angels—including Caine—had suffered to preserve this perverse system, something changed inside of Kinger. Something shattered…and it wasn’t just his love for God. The grief, guilt, rage, and unbridled love he had suppressed for centuries erupted all at once. As the higher ups tried to help him regain composure, Kinger turned away from them and unleashed his divine power across the temple, annihilating scores of the ancient angels in a single catastrophic blast. Those who survived didn’t react, even if they were injured. That single, visceral reaction singlehandedly became one of the bloodiest moments in Heaven's history.

After the blast dissolved into smoke, everyone’s ears were ringing, and the air was still. You could’ve heard a pin drop from how silent it was.

Once the reality of what just happened set in…all hell broke loose. The horrified shrieks of the higher ups pierced the air, and several of them tried to restrain Kinger, but he teleported out of the temple and flew as fast as he could. He heard the emergency alarms blare, searchlights flicked on, and the announcer demanded his immediate capture. It wasn’t long before he was trailed by countless higher ups and soldier angels, flying after him in an unbridled holy rage. While Kinger wasn’t the most graceful flier, he was definitely more clever, finding hidden spots and using his wings to camouflage himself from his pursuers among the white clouds. Coach, in particular, was difficult to evade, given his tenacity, superior flying skills, and disapproval of Kinger in the past.

However, it didn’t take long for God to hear of what he’d done. He didn’t let Kinger leave Heaven unscathed – ripping his wings from his body and stripping him of his divine power as he crossed the threshold between Heaven and Earth. This resulted in a brutal landing, severely injuring Kinger, who barely had enough magic to heal his bleeding wing stumps. Heaven wasn’t done with him though – they sent several powerful angels to Earth to capture and drag him back for further punishment. He spent several days running, hiding, frantically healing, both using herbal remedies and his limited magic, dodging, and narrowly escaping Heaven’s relentless pursuers. Eventually, Hell’s forces noticed the increase divine activity and joined the fray, not knowing they were giving Kinger a much-needed reprieve. He was in rough shape by the time he reached his destination – an ancient shrine that he used to boost his magic and unleash a blast that destroyed his pursuers, forcing the remaining angels to flee and officially solidify his allegiance with the forces of Hell. As he emerged from the shrine with his new horns, wings, and tail, battered and panting from exhaustion, Kinger looked over the bloody battlefield at the gaping demons…and then fell unconscious.

A few demons stepped forth, but a short one in particular picked him up with ease using his thorny vines, glaring back at the crowd as if to say, “Don’t even think about it.” Caine carried Kinger from the battlefield down to Hell…and Kinger’s fall became one of the most infamous angelic falls ever recorded. Even demons who were present that day (save for Caine) don’t know the full story about what happened – they just saw one of Heaven’s elites get hunted, and he retaliated by blasting them. He went from almost achieving the highest possible honor to being the worst enemy of Heaven in an instant. Later, when demons ask Kinger about why he fell, his face falls and he simply answers, “Heaven failed me.”

When Kinger regains consciousness and reunites with Caine, they are no longer simply lovers separated by Heaven. They are survivors of the same oppressive system who responded to it in opposite ways. Caine rejected Heaven early and paid for it with everything he had. Kinger believed in Heaven until the very end…only to discover that the perfection he had devoted his life to was the extinction of personhood itself.

The Reunion

(because why wouldn’t I include this part? :P)

As Kinger lets Caine tend to his wounds (and create a few minor ones, if the demon feels so inclined), he tells him what he discovered about true purity and the Temple of the Highest Light. He tells him he saw Scratch, his mentor from centuries ago, there, and the state he was in. He tells him about the hollowed state those angels were in, how they’d surrendered their individualities willingly, and how that was the ultimate outcome everyone in Heaven was striving for. He tells him how he’d been chosen for true purity, and Caine speaks up for the first time since Kinger’s awakening to ask if he would’ve gone through with it. Kinger hesitates…before admitting that for a minute…he considered it. Not for the sake of devotion, not for the sake of achieving the ultimate enlightenment…but just to be rid of the pain their separation brought him. The temptation of just…surrendering himself…was present, if only briefly.

Caine slaps him and starts yelling in his face about being “a fucking coward,” but Kinger cuts him off, saying he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t abandon Caine like that, not again. Not ever again. If that’s the ultimatum that forces him to choose between Heaven and Caine, he’ll pick Caine.

Caine says something bitter about how it took an extreme to force Kinger to finally pick him, and he goes to leave.

“It would’ve killed you.”

Caine stops in the door and slowly turns to face him.

“That’s…what pulled me back from the edge. The knowledge that my erasure…would’ve killed you. The heartbreak, the very reason we were told not to fall in love in the first place…”

“…You could drop dead right now, and it would only improve my life.”

Kinger looks doubtfully over at his bandaged wounds, but shakes his head in defeat, not daring to voice those thoughts. “I don’t gamble when it comes to your life, my love. You can play around with mine if you want, you can stab me and hurt me as much as you like…but I never will with yours. No matter who it is, if they’re threatening your life, I will intervene.”

Caine…blushes faintly at this, and returns to the bed. He rests his hand in Kinger’s and wraps a thorny vine around both of them to squeeze them together, causing both to bleed.

Kinger avoids his gaze as he rubs his thumb up and down Caine’s hand. “I…don’t know what happened. I…unleashed some kind of…blast. All the repressed emotions I’ve been carrying since your banishment, all the guilt, yearning, sorrow, love, anger…it just…mixed with the realization that…you were banished for the sake of perpetuating this system whose greatest reward for a lifetime of devotion is just…mental non-existence. Before, I was fine with God’s love being the only reward for my devotion, but when I saw what they did to Scratch…and knowing that they could’ve done that to you…I just…” Kinger paused, tearing up as his breathing started getting heavy. “Everything came out in that blast. And I…I killed him, Caine. I killed Scratch. I killed…so many great angels.”

“Hollow angels,” Caine reminded him. “Hollow angels who made the choice to be that way.”

“And after I came down to Earth? Those angels I blasted with the shrine’s magic-“

“-Were pursuing you with the express purpose of dragging you back up there to suffer. It was either them or you, dear.”

Kinger shook his head. “Everything happened so fast. I…I still can’t believe the things I saw up there. To think that everything we worked for, everything I devoted myself to, the ultimate gift He could give us in return for our eternal love and devotion is…just…erasing us. As if we were nothing. Have I…always been nothing? This entire time…?”

Caine’s expression softened briefly before he sighed. “God and Heaven are bullshit. Glad you finally see that, love. Any other brilliant revelations I can drop on you that you’ll utterly ignore until they get shoved in your face?”

Kinger shot him a hurtful look before slowly laying back down on his back. “I’m glad you find my shattered faith and crushing realization of my utter pointlessness in the world so amusing.”

Caine giggled, then crawled on top of him and rested his own hands on Kinger’s face. “I prefer the term ‘gratifying.’ But listen, your role in Heaven may be over, but you have a new start here, you beautiful idiot. I’m a fallen angel too, remember? I kept going after I fell, and here I am. If I could do it without any support, you can do it with mine.”

Kinger looked up at him, then grunted softly as he set his hand atop one of Caine’s. “It’s going to take a while for me to adjust…please be patient with me?” He then cried out as a knife was lodged into his shoulder, and he tearfully looked at Caine in bewilderment.