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“So what if we introduced a determination factor?”
“Not unless you want to blue-screen again.” Mad points to Google’s screen, tapping at a section of code, “It’d create an overload of unprocessable data.” he drags his finger down to a later part in the code, “But if you shifted it over here, changed it to an interpretation instead you would…”
Mad tapers off, but Google barely notices, staring at the code as he starts to see what Mad is trying to suggest.
“Process instead of pre-empt. Of course. And this would-?” Google stops as Mad nudges at his shoulder. Mad’s looking behind them and the droid turns to follow his gaze.
The door to the lab is open and in the doorway stands a weary-looking Bing. He’s slightly taller than when he left, maybe half-an-inch, and a darn sight scruffier. His hair has grown; Google isn’t sure he likes it. The most notable thing though is the look of shock on his face as he stares at the droid sitting at Google’s workstation, and the madman stood beside him.
“You should go.” Google doesn’t even turn to Mad as he speaks.
Mad doesn’t hesitate, quickly grabbing his jacket from the floor and throwing it around his shoulders as he heads for the door. Bing takes a few steps forward to let the guy leave but otherwise just stands, staring at Google.
Google hasn’t forgotten what happened. He remembers with crystal clear clarity every one of Mad’s sins against them. He knows what Mad did to them, to Bing, and he has by no means forgiven him. He also knows exactly how this probably looks to the cyborg.
“I wanted to tell you,” Google starts, “I wasn’t sure e-mail was the right way to-”
“It’s fine.” Bing’s words are clipped, his voice tense as he glances away avoiding eye contact. Indication of deception. It’s not fine.
Silence falls between them. It’s been a while since they were in the same room and the air is heavy with awkward tension. With his old processor it would have been easy for Google to ignore it, mostly because he wouldn’t have noticed it, but now he understands the nuance of the discomfort between them; the unspoken anger and feelings of betrayal about Google lying by omission about Mad. It’s not pleasant, and Google doesn’t plan to let it go on any longer than he has to.
The droid stands, heading to Oliver’s workstation and pulling something from a drawer before he strides back towards Bing. The cyborg merely watches in confusion, even as Google stops and holds out a very familiar pair of orange sunglasses.
“What…?”
Google says nothing, patiently waiting as Bing carefully reaches out and takes them.
“You fixed them.” There’s surprise in his voice.
“We improved them.”
They’d found the glasses a few hours after Bing ‘woke up’ again. Snapped in half and abandoned on the floor. Bing had made some off-handed comment about having to get a new pair, but ultimately tried to throw them out. Naturally the Googles weren’t going to stand for that.
Fixing them was obvious and relatively easy, reinforcing the repaired frames with flexible titanium would stop them being snapped again. The rest of the upgrade was Oliver’s idea and took significantly longer.
Bing turns them over in his hand. “They look the same.”
“Try them on.”
Bing opens them and puts them on, wincing as a bright orange light flashes in his eyes from the lenses.
“Ow!”
Each Google receives a message instantly, and if they’ve done it correctly, the message should be on Bing’s glasses lenses too.
[NEW USER IDENTIFIED]
[WELCOME BING]
[OLIVER] He’s back!
[RED] You finally gave him the glasses then?
[OLIVER] Does he like them? He’s not mad is he?
Bing tears the glasses from his face triggering a [BING IS OFFLINE] message to the Googles. The cyborg stares at the glasses in his hand before looking up at Google in astonishment. “What was-?”
“It’s connected to our network.” Google nods. “Partially anyway. There’s only so much we could manage in a pair of sunglasses. You can see status updates and send and receive messages.”
Bing looks baffled, “Why are you adding me to your network?”
“Well you are our brother.”
Google says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world because to him it is. There has been so much madness in the last year but through it all he’s realised that even when he lacked the processing power to truly comprehend it, Bing means no less to the Googles than any one of their brothers. Bing may not be a droid, but he is as much a Google as the rest of them and including him seemed so obvious once the idea had been pitched.
That’s to say nothing of the cyborg’s tendency to wind up in some sort of trouble or other. At the very least, Bing being able to connect to the network would make it easier to figure out when he needed help. No more waiting three days for Google to check the CCTV.
Bing stares at the glasses in his hands, speechless. This isn’t something he ever even thought of, never mind hoped or dreamed of. It almost doesn’t seem real. As he looks up at Google, a warm smile on the droid’s face, Bing’s shoulders relax and he surges forward, tightly wrapping his arms around his older brother in a hug.
“Thanks Goog.”
Google smiles, gently patting Bing on the head. After a moment he chuckles.
“Can you put the glasses on again? Oliver’s worried you fainted.”
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The bus station cafe is way too busy so they head across the road to some fast food place and place two orders of food for the humans. They sit at a table together, Bim and Bing opposite each other, with Green next to Bim and King next to Bing.
“So no sign of Silver yet?” Bing asks between bites of his burger.
Bim shakes his head. “Not yet. The Colonel and JJ are…doing something.” His words are weighted with disappointment as he avoids looking at any of them, picking at his fries. Honestly he’s not all that hungry. “They’ll figure it out.”
Bing glances to Green who shakes his head. Bim’s been moping like this for months. They’ve tried to help cheer him up but he doesn’t seem to go for it at all. Better to leave it be.
“So what else have I missed?” Bing asks instead.
“The Jims are out of sync.” King’s getting restless, leg bouncing beneath the table, avoiding looking at anyone or anything in particular. The lights, the air, and the din of humanity bustling around them is slowly burrowing its way under his skin. The only thing keeping him half-sane right now is the gentle scrape as he slides the salt shaker between his hands on the table. “They think we haven’t noticed but we have.”
“Out of sync?”
King pauses, shuffling in his seat as he thinks.
“You know how they would always say everything at exactly the same time, no matter what it was and it was so annoying?”
“You’re the only one who finds it annoying.” Bing chuckles.
“He’s not.” Bim mutters.
“The point,” King cuts in, “they aren’t any more. They go to say something but one’s always like a second too early, or says something completely different.” He remembers the first time it happened. The way the Jims’ eyes just went wide and they immediately ran.“It’s weird.”
It’s definitely weird. For longer than Bing’s even known the Jims they’ve always worked as one. They’ve moved, acted, thought, decided as a single person and while yeah it’s weird, you get used to it.
“Do we know why?”
King snorts, going back to sliding the salt back and forth.
“They’re the Jims, who knows why they do anything?”
“Be nice.” Bim reminds him.
It’s no secret; King has never gotten along with the Jims. They’re extroverted, over the top, and reckless at the best of times while King is more reserved, introverted, and generally hateful towards humanity. Still, that’s no reason to be rude.
“We don’t know.” Green finally answers, “They refuse to acknowledge it.”
Damn. If a Jim doesn’t want to talk, there is no known force in the universe that can change their mind. They’re not allowed outside the building so they know every nook and cranny where they can hide away. Once they stayed hidden for two months, only surfacing to steal food from the kitchen, just to avoid being questioned about who broke something in the clinic.
Taking another bite Bing wonders what could be going on with them when he spies a sly glance from Bim aimed at King. The cyborg looks over; King’s not looking but his brow is furrowed and he shakes his head. Bim raises his eyebrows pointedly.
“What?”
They startle, eyes going wide as they realise he saw them. Bing frowns. That’s totally not suspicious or worrying at all.
“Seriously guys, what?”
“Mad moved in.” Green’s blunt in his answer, the others turning to him and trying to hush him. Bing just stares in shock, a fry half way to his mouth suddenly forgotten.
“He what?”
“So much for breaking it gently.” King mutters, sinking into his seat.
Bing shakes his head. “I thought he was staying at the warehouse?”
A lot had happened while Bing was out of it and since then there’d been weeks of trying to sort it all out. Some people chose to leave, some wanted to stick around, and Dark offered for Mad to move into the building if he wanted. An invitation that the madman made stupidly clear the lot of them could shove where the sun doesn’t shine. Even after Natemare took the offer, Mad just said to lose his number and leave him alone.
“That was the plan.” Bim starts.
“Then what the heck?!”
Bing’s fist slams down, rattling the table and drawing the attention of several people nearby.
Bim looks between the cyborg’s fist and his face, not looking amused. “Feel better?”
The cyborg uncurls his fingers. His right hand. He keeps forgetting it’s stronger since his upgrade. Luckily he didn’t leave an impact on the table
“I’m fine.” he mutters. He clearly isn’t.
Green shifts, leaning over while making sure to keep his hand on Bing’s suitcase by his side.
“The warehouse burned down. Mad needed somewhere to stay and honestly we need his help with our processors.”
His voice is low, stern, very matter-of-fact. A clear indication that this is the end of this conversation.
Bing bites the inside of his lip. In Goog’s emails he’d said they were working on new emotional processors for the other Googles, now that they knew they had a limited life-span before they burned out too. Given the extreme circumstances Goog’s new one was made under, they wanted to fine-tune it before making a new one for the others.
Sure that would be easier with Mad’s help, after all no one knows anything near what he does about robotics, but that doesn’t change what a colossal self-serving buttwipe the guy is. Not to mention that he’d probably betray them all at the drop of a hat if it suits what he wants.
Bing drops the fry onto his plate and slumps in his seat. He’s not hungry any more.
Bim’s stopped eating too, and King’s clearly overstimulated. Green stands up, looking between them.
“I think it’s time we went home.”
“Agreed.” Bim nods.
“Finally.” King all but leaps out his seat, shaking away his discomfort.
Bing absently nods in agreement as he stands. At this point he just wants to be home.
Bing is both the easiest and the worst person to buy for, because short of getting him something tasteless or insulting, he will love the frick out of whatever you get him. Which puts undue presssure to get something better than the others.
The Jims get him a cape, long enough that he can do proper hero posing, but short enough that he won’t trip over it when he runs.
King gives Bing an apple from one of his trees and Bing honestly feels just so #blessed because omg King this is from your freaking trees.
Silver collabed with the Jims and gives Bing a mask.
Bim gives Bing soeme soothing teas to help when he has his grey days.
Wilford promises to teach Bing trapeze and Dark forbids it but Wilford just winks and points out that he’s never listened to Dark before and has no intention of starting now.
Mare doesn’t really do gifts and literally just hands Bing some toy from inside a kinder egg because he has it in his pocket and he’s sure the dork will love it because of course he will.
The Host is not allowed to give Bing a present, but Dr Iplier gives Bing a jar filled to the brim with sweets, most of them are those sour fizzy sweets
Dark doesn’t do gifts but it’s fine, Bing still thinks of being in the building as a huge present, especially after the professor who made him a cyborg died, because what if Bing had been still living with him when that happened? What would have become of him?
The Googles give Bing a shirt to match their own, except it’s black with an orange G and Bing doesn’t bother to take his tank top off before he pulls it on and he loves it and insists on like fifty photos with the Googles in his shirt
The night ends with Google pulling Bing aside, warning him not to get emotional and handing over a poorly wrapped gift (because of course Google wrapped it himself) And inside is Bing’s one picture of him and his mom from before the accident, in a brand new high quality very pretty frame. Of course Bing gets emotional and Google just nopes out because he cannot handle this. Though he makes sure King and maybe the Jims go spend time with Bing so the kid doesn’t end up on his own too long and start overthinking the present. And makes up the cot in case Bing wants to snooze in the computer lab at the end of the night. Which he does.
"Y’all can go get yo’self killed if y’want.” Ed jabs an angry finger at the others, before sitting his ass firmly down in the chair he dragged from another room. “I ent movin’ one step from this here seat.”
Everyone stares at him.
“So that’s a no from Ed.” Silver comments. He glances around. “Anybody else?”
There’s a rescue party being put together, an idea that many of the group are not very happy with. It’s got to be a small group, so they can be undetected, and can’t leave those who stay behind unprotected.
Bim is going, able to get everybody there and back, leaving Wilford to stay behind in case of sudden ambush. He’s a bit more coherent this morning and vastly stronger, he’ll be able to move everyone in just one jump, no problem at all. Marvin has also volunteered, a decision that Anti has made sure everybody knows he is not happy about. Naturally it means that the glitch is going too.
Silver wants to go, but Bim has put his foot down and said no. Despite his self-sacrificial tendencies, the hero has proven himself to be good in a crisis and he’ll be better staying behind.
Dr Iplier and the Jims are not for it, and Google would be a liability, while none of the others are willing to leave him. Nobody has seen Mad or Mare since they woke up and nobody is really that inclined to go chasing after them.
And then there’s Bing.
“I want to go.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Bim looks uncertain. It’s been less than a day since Bing got attacked, his neck is still bruised, and Wilford told him about the night time wandering.
“But I need to see King.”
“Bim’s going to be checking in with everyone. King included.” Silver has no uncertainties. Bing is not ready to be rushing off playing hero. “Besides King made a deal.” there’s a slight touch of resentment in the hero’s voice at that. He’s clearly still annoyed about it but he says nothing else towards that. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“But I-!”
“I said no!”
Bim claps his hands, having no table to slam them down on, drawing both their attentions to him. He isn’t mad, but is wearing a small smile.
“Bing can you give us a moment?” The cyborg looks between the two of them before he draws away, arms folded.
The second the kid is out of earshot, Silver speaks. “He’s not going.”
“Tobi-”
“He’s a klutz, he was strangled, he’s going to run off.”
“So you want to confine him to the warehouse with his emotionally absent older brother, the man who kidnapped and dismantled him, and without his best friend?”
They’ve all noticed that Bing’s been purposefully avoiding Mad, and after the awkward encounter with an emotionless Google, the cyborg is just drawing away from everyone.
“He’ll be a liability.”
“So will Marvin and Anti.” Bim glances over to the cyborg before turning his back so the kid won’t see him speak. “You know if we leave him behind, he’ll try to follow us.”
He’s impulsive, emotionally compromised, and was unconscious through everything that went down. Probably done some impressive mental gymnastics to pin all this on himself and it stands to reason that Bing would want to see his best friend.
“He’s a determined kid. He’s shown he’s capable of stepping up. If you give him a chance, I’m sure he’ll surprise you.”
Silver is quiet for a long time, turning everything over in his head and Bim watches, waiting for the hero to swallow his pride and agree with him.
Sure enough, “If he runs off on you, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’.”
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Every seat is full, the Jims sharing the Host’s empty seat, Chase is stood between Silver and Bim, Marvin is stood next to the Jims, Anti isn’t too far from his brother, and Natemare is tucked away in the corner. Even the other Googles are here, gathered behind Google’s chair, no doubt conversing across their private channel.
The leader stands, hoisting himself to his feet. There was once a time where that alone would be enough to silence everyone so he could address them but it does nothing. A few of them glance at him, but the only ones to fall silent are the Jims.
It’s the loud slam of Wilford’s fist against the table that silences the room. All of them looking to the head of the table. Wilford is at Dark’s right hand, as he always is, a vacant stare on his face as he knows what’s coming. If there’s any reason Dark would avoid this conversation it would be for Wilford’s sake, but Silver’s right. They need to know.
“It has probably not escaped your various attentions that we share some common features.” his gaze passes over those of them that look the same. All but four of them. “This is not an accident.”
Dark takes a deep breath. “There is a man who has shown an interest in you all. That’s how we found you.” His eyes drift along the table, lingering for a moment on Bing. “Some of you we were late to help. So we did what we could. We brought you here because we thought we could keep you safe.” King of the Squirrels scoffs and Google pointedly pushes his glasses up his nose. Neither of them say a word, though neither of them need to. “We were wrong,”
Everyone turns as one of the Jims raises his hand, something that nobody else would ever do, but nobody questions the fact that Jim does it. As he speaks, Jim’s hand slowly comes down again. “Why does he want to hurt us?”
”A long time ago, the three of us were friends.” Dark gently indicates Wilford as well. They were all very different back then. “Someone screwed up and we lost a lot. Mark believes our face is cursed, and seeks to punish those who share it.” Silence draws out across the room as everybody processes that.
“Well that’s horseshit!” Ed’s voice shatters through the silence, everyone turning to look at him as he leans forward stabbing the table with a finger. “What kind of backass logic supports that?” the finger then raises and jabs at Dark and Wilford. “And if he’s your friend, how can we trust either one o’ you? How do we know you ent just been collectin’ us for your ol’ buddy?”
Dark twists his neck, feeling it crack as he tries to keep his cool. “Wilford and I are the only reason he hasn’t already come for you.”
Bing mutters something and Dark turns to him, his eyes looking more sunken and his aura bleeding into the air around him. “Do you have something to say, Ashley?”
Bing sits up, looking pissed, “Yeah. I said, you’re full of it. Acting like you’ve been looking after us when you literally used me as live bait to catch Natemare.” the cyborg glances across to the spirit in the corner who honestly just looks like he wants to merge into the shadows and disappear.
“We have bigger problems to worry about here-”
“Not to mention keeping your boyfriend secret and putting almost half the building at risk.” Bing continues still pissed. He glances sideways at Marvin who looks kind of broken as he avoids looking at anyone. “Sorry Marvin.” The magician mutters that its okay, though when Anti moves closer, he doesn’t move away, grateful not to feel alone in this.
Dark catches Marvin’s eyes for a moment and quickly glances away. That bridge is burned. He’s just trying to help them, can’t they all see that?
“The clinic has been an awful lot busier lately.” Dr Ipier adds.
The egos all begin talking at once and internally, Dark shatters, just like that old mirror, cracks reaching to the very edge of his being as he sees the fruits of his labor. The only one who is silent is Silver who just sits there staring at Dark, giving a half shrug as their eyes meet.
-BANG-
Dark is the only one who doesn’t flinch, everyone else’s hands flying to cover their ears to block out the ringing from the gunshot fired into the ceiling. Wilford is stood, his gun pointed to the fresh hole there.
“Mark will kill every last one of you and walk out the door laughing.” There is a mania to his eyes and his voice. He slowly lowers the gun, his finger still twitching on the trigger.
Dark’s hand stretches out to take the gun from him as it always is when things get too much for Wilford. Wilford hands the gun over before turning to look at everyone. “We’re not saying forget that we’re assholes, we’re saying, there’s a bigger one out there, and if you’re not ready, you’re going to die.”
Reaching up, Dark pushes gently to get Wilford to sit again. The backup is helpful, it’s got their attention but it won’t do anybody any good for Warfstache to get worked up.
“Like it or not,” Dark continues, “Wilford and I have dealt with him before. We’re your best chance against him. So you can get mad, or you can get ready.”
Everybody still looks mad, but the anger is laced with determination as they all begrudgingly agree to be wary, be vigilant, to be ready.
Once the room is empty, everyone leaving very much more on edge than they used to be, Wilford pushes himself to his feet. “Julien should have been here for this.”
Dark closes his eyes and shakes his head. “We both know he was never going to come.”
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It’s been about two weeks in this building and Mare is slowly beginning to think that maybe he was better off caught on his own in Mad’s workshop.
Turns out, everybody loves Bing which makes Mare public enemy number one. They’re not even trying to be subtle with their angered glares whenever he’s in the room. Then there was the time that Google caught him by surprise and threw the spirit against a wall, threatening to have him exorcised if he ever touches Bing again.
The only time they’re even halfway nice to him is when Bing’s around. It’s like an unspoken rule. So most of the time Mare just hangs in the shadows around the cyborg. Out of sight, out of mind.
Even at the party, nobody notices him just sitting everything out. Nobody cares. Nobody invites him in. Then Jim’s gone and Mare tries to tell them! He tries! He’s seen that kind of thing before, but no one is listening. I mean why would they. They all just seem to look right through him and disperse leaving the spirit alone in the party room. Invisible, and ignored. Mare swears, it’s like being at Fazbear’s all over again, except nobody’s ever happy to see him.
Everybody’s losing their nut over the missing Jim and Mare just watches. If they don’t want his help, then he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like they can hate him any more, so he just follows Bing around as he usually does, the two of them eventually winding up on babysitting duty in the clinic.
Mare smirks as he watches Jim trying to break free from the handcuffs they slapped on him while he was still out of it. There’s something kind of satisfying seeing the usually calm weirdo losing his shit and arguing and biting and scratching. Makes the world seem a little more balanced, y’know.
It’s somewhere around the third round of arguments between Bing and Jim when the door is thrown open and Silver rushes through, a sickly Jim cradled in his arms. The little dude is out of it, his lips turning blue and his arm hanging limp as Silver carries him to the bed while Bing yells for that doctor dude and handcuffed Jim goes mad trying to break free.
The handcuffs somehow pop open and Jim’s all but leaping to the other bed, throwing himself on his brother, clinging to him and begging his brother to wake up. It’s a bit....much and Mare looks away. Emotional displays are really not his thing.
His eyes turn to Silver as Bing and the doc rush forward, Mare frowning as the hero steps back. Silver’s fingers are twitching as he moves and then a tear begins to trickle down his cheek....a red tear.
“Bing.” Mare can’t reach to grab his attention and in frustration he shouts. “Bing!”
“Mare we’re-!” The cyborg turns, angry, probably ready to tear the spirit a new one but when he sees it, he freezes as well. “Silver...? Are you okay?”
The hero looks at them and Mare knows, now he knows, what’s going on here. He takes a step forward, carefully raising a hand in an attempt at reassurance and Silver takes a step back.
“It’s o-!” Mare tries to reassure but is cut off when Silver opens his mouth, and let out a roar. Like an actual, feral, guttural, animalistic roar and they all jump back. The twitches are turning into glitches and the hero jerks, reaching his hands to clutch as his head before the air splits around him and he’s gone.
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It is a beautifully clear night, and King is up one of his trees. His legs are straight up against the trunk, going up, while he’s laid back against the branch, his arm dangling while he stares up through the leaves above him. The moon is half visible from this angle and despite the strange position, he’s surprisingly comfortable.
Since they found his trees he hasn’t needed to sleep half so much as he used to , but he still spends every night in their branches. It’s comforting and soothing, especially after so many years of being stuck in that awful room. To be able to just lay here and look at the sky, he can almost pretend that his forest is still here. Almost.
Tonight though he’s thinking, a lot more than he usually does at night. Dark lied about his trees and he’s still in the shit for that, but now that he’s had time to think, he can kind of see where Dark was coming from. King isn’t ignorant to how much of a vulnerability his trees are. So maybe there was a better way to go about it, but Dark wanting to find a way to sustain the tree spirit without the big weakness holding him back is...understandable. He’s still a dick, and the lying is a dick move.
King hears a sound from the garden down below and twists to see someone wandering around on the grass below. He instantly knows who it is, because there’s only one person who lives in this building who wears bright orange pajama pants.
With a simple twist, King just rolls off the branch, and falls. Since he got his trees back, he’s been surprisingly agile and lands gracefully on the grass below without a single issue. As he jogs over to Bing, the cyborg is glancing around with glazed eyes. He seems confused and King frowns at him.
“Bing?” The cyborg doesn’t seem to realise King is there until the dryad grabs his shoulders and gives him a firm shake. “Bing!”
Bing startles, jolting in King’s hold, and he blinks at King with suddenly tired eyes. “King....?” he says sleepily. “What are you doing in my room?”
“I’m not in your room. You’re in the garden.”
There a few moments as Bing looks around and notices that, hey! he’s in the garden! “....Why am I in the garden?”
“I think you were sleepwalking.” King pulls Bing into a hug which the cyborg kind of melts into a little bit. It’s obvious that he’s trying not to just fall asleep again. "You feeling okay?”
There’s an indistinct grumble that’s probably meant to be words but it makes no sense. Thankfully King knows exactly what to do.
Drawing back, he takes a firm hold of Bing’s hand and pulls the cyborg back indoors. There’s an airing cupboard two corridors in that has lots of blankets and while doing his best to not let Bing trip and fall, King goes to grab one before dragging the cyborg outside again.
There’s another grumble which King takes to mean what is he doing, as he pulls his friend towards the base of one of his trees. “You’‘re gonna sleep out here tonight.”
“Blanket.” Bing manages to say, giving a wide yawn.
“Already got you one.”
Pulling Bing close, King wraps his arms around the cyborg, holding him tight as he slowly lowers the two of them to sit down, leaning back against the trunk of the nearest tree. It takes a fair bit of shuffling and shifting for the two of them to get comfortable but eventually they manage to settle.
Bing’s head is on King’s shoulder, the top of his head just about tucked in under King’s chin, he’s twisted, with one arm thrown across King’s torso, holding firm in a tight hug. King has his arm nearest Bing wrapped around his friend, holding him close and supporting him. Grabbing the blanket, King throws it over Bing. It’s a mild night and probably not necessary but he knows how cold it can get without warning sometimes.
Bing mumbles something as King straightens out the blanket but at this point it’s more noise than words. King smirks.
Host enters the clinic to chaos, stopping in the doorway, the raised voices throwing him for a moment. Anger and panic are heavy in the air, and though Natemare isn’t visible, the Host can sense his presence somewhere nearby. He can hardly blame the spirit for stepping back.
As he steps forward, the Host doesn’t hesitate to remove the gun from Wilford’s hand, placing his own on the pink man’s shoulder in an attempt to try and calm his anger, while receiving an understanding of what’s going on in return.
Bing is in a bad way, to put it mildly. You can hardly call him a cyborg now, practically every robotic part having been removed while he’s attached to an external life support that Wilford brought with him. Even such a small, simple journey has apparently put a huge amount of stress on Bing’s body.
The Host doesn’t have a large understanding of Natemare’s powers, but through Wilford’s eyes, he sees the explanation the spirit gave about Bing’s mental state and the anger that even now is flying between the Doctor and Google over what to do next. Bing needs to be awoken but he’s barely stable. Waking him could send him into shock, or worse. From Natemare’s explanation, leaving him in there is no better. It would appear to be a decision of trial by fire or trial by drowning.
Dr Iplier moves as the Host steps to Bing’s side, taking a hold of the boy’s hand and trying to see inside his mind. Perhaps there’s something he can do to help, but it’s useless. Bing’s mind is protected, surrounded by a writhing black mass that lashes out whenever the Host attempts to draw near. An educated guess would make that the nightmare Bing is trapped in.
Removing his hand, the Host attempts to mediate, or at the very least find some kind of compromise between the two increasingly angry parties, but it would seem that in everybody’s panic they are unable to think beyond the immediate confines of their own decision.
His own anger rises, and he’s two minutes from using his powers against the pair of them when he feels an all too familiar darkness, one that sends shivers down his spine. It passes over them, all of them, swathing them all in a terrifyingly familiar calming presence of pure black. Host can’t help but to stumble back in fear at the sensation, caught unawares by a pair of hands clasping his shoulders and holding him in place. Wilford, he learns as he reaches to touch one of the hands. Through Wilford’s eyes, Host sees what everyone else can, hearing the silence that’s fallen over them all, making way for the high-pitched ringing.
On the far end of the room stands Dark, his eyes closed, his head bowed and the darkness that surrounds them emanating from him in waves. Knowing the origin of this darkness, the Host comes back to himself. It’s not what he thought. He’s safe. It’s not him.
“Natemare.” Host calls and the spirit manifests at Bing’s head. “Wake Bing up now.” He knows what Dark is trying to do, as does Google and Wilford, though the younger egos are simply shocked into silence.
“But what about-?” Mare is cut off by Google who is suddenly moving with purpose, gathering what he can and moving round to begin repairing the essential parts of Bing while they have the chance.
“Just do it.”
Mare places a hand on either side of Bing’s head, closing his eyes, and within seconds, Bing’s left eye goes wide, taking a deep breath as though he’s about to start screaming, but Dark steps forward, those gathered around the bed moving away as Dark raises his hand and the darkness around them gets stronger. It’s wrapped around them all like coats that are too tight but they watch as the blackness visibly seeps into the poor cyborg’s brain and he gently sighs as he calms into a much less harmful sleep.
Dark’s aura, the distortion, the darkness that follows him everywhere is what currently surrounds them all. It’s a being of great power, of great possibility and Dark barely has a handle on it, allowing it to just surround him, using him as an anchor in this world and acting as it sees fit. Host has only seen the grey ego purposefully use it a handful of times, and each time they have watched it fight him every step of the way. Even now, they can all see Dark’s hand wavering as he tries to centre it around Bing’s mind, keeping the cyborg from further injury allowing Google to make it so Bing will function without the external life support.
The other three droids step forward, joining their brother in reconstructing Bing’s chest, working swiftly and in perfect unison, presumably communicating over their private network as no words pass between them. Wilford still has his hands on the Host, which honestly the Host is grateful for. Dark is not the only one with access to this power and Host’s last encounter with the other one he knows has access to it...let’s just say it doesn’t class as a win. Losing your eyes usually doesn’t. Host will never forget how it feels to be surrounded, to feel completely at the mercy of this power. Some nights it still haunts him to the point of screaming, but being able to see through Wilford’s eyes that it’s not coming from Him, is enough to help him remain calm.
Time both drags and races, the only real indicator that any time is passing is the visibly increasing strain on Dark as he fights to maintain the aura around them. Where before it was pulsing out from him, each of them can feel it trying to draw back, watching as the look of determination on Dark’s face only becomes more and more so. Sweat is starting to drip down Dark’s face, and through his contact with Wilford, the Host can feel the pink man’s need to do something to help his friend.
“Google.” is all Wilford says, the concern in his voice matching the stress in the room. The ringing is getting higher and higher, and any moment now, Host worries that it’s going to snap and everything will have been for naught. The robots don’t respond, continuing to work.
Dark takes a firm grip of the end of the gurney, his grey knuckles turning a stark white, his raised hand falling slightly. All facade of calm and control has gone, nothing but pain and strain as he tries to hold on for every last second he can get them.
After what feels like an age, Google yells for Dark to stop and he can’t help it, he lets the aura go, every last one of them in the room feeling it rush past them and return to where it decides it wants to be. Wilford’s hands are gone from the Host, the pink man having rushed over to catch Dark as he fell, holding him up. Dark’s grey skin looks pale, though he remains conscious as he grasps tightly to his friend. Standing up is going to be difficult for a while.
“Wh-what happened?” comes a small voice from the bed.
Bing’s chest looks practically whole again, though his right eye, arm, and leg are still gone, and the poor boy looks so lost as he glances over the gathered egos around him.”D-Did I kill s-someone else?”
The collective sigh of relief never happens as everyone realises that first, that’s not something Bing should be saying, and second, Natemare has suddenly made himself scarce.
