#the program

and that he was thriving there too.

I can't even put it into words but it just makes no sense to me that they didn't even like try to get him to physically stand up for himself at least a little bit

so the thing abt will is that he has always been very, very good. we all know he had the second highest points total ever in the program's history while there, incl. a season that he spent consistently playing up a year. he's been the best on the ice for most of his life, which means he never really needed to learn how to take a hit because he could outthink outplay and (usually) outskate the other players on the ice. he also got used to leno and gabe (and his other teammates before that) doing the dirty work in the corners, along the boards and in their zone to get him the puck, so like. he never really had to be the one getting hit over it. and it didn't matter because once they got him the puck, he was doing absolutely filthy ungodly things with it.

unfort now that will is no longer the unqualified best offensive player on the ice, he really does need to contribute more defensively, which requires getting a lil more comfy w taking a hit. the december shoulder injury def didn't help; it can take a young guy a while to bounce back from a hit like that, esp one like will who's never really been abt the goon life. is he ever gonna be milan lucic or even a kiefer sherwood? no, and he doesn't need to be. but he should probably spend the off-season doing his version of the rocky montage up the philly art museum steps or whatever and like. get his head in the game. which i'm sure he will!

That’s all I wanted to share- maybe I’ll draw Program Mickey if I have time later- Toodles!

HE LOOKS SO FUNNN!!!!!

And you never have to draw Mickey from The Program, but it means the world to me you even consider it!

And as per your last request btw...

This article is about the hardware device. For a person who changes their gender expression or sexual characteristics, see Gender Transition.

CW: Lobotomy, ice pick, memory loss/amnesia, after effects of a lobotomy, medical whump

A piece of writing for my The Program AU :3

—

Truly, he had hoped that maybe - just maybe -something would have happened to delay the impending date. Maybe just enough for a swift rescue, or a miracle that would have been the take down of the program. He lingered awake at night, praying to anyone that may listen to save him from such a dire fate.

Rufus hadn’t been so lucky.

The time was ticking, the doctors ready, the tools pristine and shining, prepared to be bloodied. Bumbling about the cramped space doctors voices floated over him, speaking of him as if he wasn’t there at all. Readying for their victory, one that Rufus hoped didn’t mean a complete end for the rebellion.

With a wash of tears crawling down his sunken cheeks, Rufus couldn’t help but wallow in the despair of the moment. Of the lingering doom that he faced, knowing in just a few minutes his story was more than over.

If nothing else, it would have been nice to say goodbye. To tell his friends he loved them just once more. To give his mom one more hug. He couldn’t see an outcome where that would still be possible when they were done with him.

Shaking in the chair they had him strapped onto, the metal pieces cracked against one another. His breathing picked up rapidly as he caught a glimpse of the ice pick they were about to use to split through his fucking skull. He tried to swallow down his cries, the ones that only got louder and whinier as they slipped from his chest.

A hand, gentle if not for the circumstances, nimbly fell to his shoulder. “Calm down, hun. There’s really nothing to be afraid of.”

Rufus made the attempt to shrug his designated nurse off, but her touch continued to linger. “E- easy for you to say.” He spat between whimpers. “You’re not the one they’re gonna f- fucking lobotomize.”

“I told you, Rufus, it’s not a lobotomy.” Nurse Becka chuckled, because she truly didn’t give a fuck that this was the end of the line for him. “It might seem similar, but I assure you it’s a million times safer. We’ve practically perfected it.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He growled, hot and fiery and desperate.

She sighed, as if she had the right to be disappointed. “And that’s exactly why you need this, sweet. You won’t accept the help we offer, and we want to ensure that you get it.” Her fingers brushed over his cheek, and he nearly bit her hand right off.

“Don’t kid yourself.” Rufus laughed in her face, spittle flying. “You’re ruining lives every fucking day! Everything that’s wrong with my life is all of your fault! You’re all crazy!”

Nurse Becka shook her head. “You need this, Rufus.” Rubbing in circles over his shoulder, she comforted him as his anger crumbled into despair. Her comfort was only welcomed as it was all he would get. “You probably won’t remember this soon, but I want you to know that we are doing exactly what’s in your best interest.” She smiled, standing as the doctors signaled for her to leave, as Rufus choked and sobbed. “Trust me.”

“Please-,” he pleaded, vision clouded with tears. “Please don’t-,”

The doctor, face blinded by the light hanging from the ceiling and the mask over her face, snapped. “Shush. Don’t talk.”

“C- can-,” swallowing the last of his dignity, Rufus begged with an ugly cry. “p- please can you count down?”

“Three,”

The doctor began, a long pause as she adjusted her rubber gloves. Rufus froze, rigid and ice cold. This was it.

“Two,”

She picked up the ice pick, twirling it in her fingers to find the right grip. Shrieking, Rufus thrashed about as the rest of the doctors rushed to hold him in place.

“One.”

———

“Dear?”

“Mngh…” he whined, curling his face into the pillow below him. It was soft and fluffy, and he had no interest in waking.

“I’m sorry hun, but you’ve been asleep way too long.” The voice said, calm and apologetic. He liked the way it sounded, but didn’t like the words it was saying. “I’ve got some questions to ask you, is that okay?”

“Mmn…”

“C’mon kiddo, time to get up.” The voice had arms then, flipping him onto his back and putting him face to face with the bright lights of the ceiling. “You don’t have to get out of bed, but I have a little quiz for you.”

“Mm… ‘kay…” he obediently adjusted his blanket over his chest, sinking back into the mattress.

Finding the nice voices’ owner, he cocked his head at her. She had a mixture of colored, curly hair tied into a bun on the back of her head, with pretty long lashes and pretty brown eyes. “That alright?” She asked.

“Mhm…” he said, barely recognizing what he had agreed to, lost in her tender gaze.

“First question.” She started, trailing down her clipboard with a pen. She sat beside his bed, legs crossed. “Do you know who I am?”

Squinting, he studied her once more. Besides her pretty hair, her pretty eyes, and her pretty smile, she had on dark blue scrubs with a name tag that said something he couldn’t read. There were little glittery stickers on the tag though, ones he found vaguely pleasant. “No.”

Her cheeks scrunched as she smiled harder, smile lines thick, still kind and calm inducing. “You can call me Nurse Becka, and I’ll be the one taking care of you from now on.” She said, with her pretty lips and pretty white teeth. He absentmindedly licked the inside of his mouth, feeling his slick canines and set of mangled teeth. “Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” He agreed instinctively.

“Alrighty then. Next question.” She tapped the pen to the paper, jaw working. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Can you tell me what the program is?”

“The…,” his chest tightened, just a bit. He didn’t know why. “Program?”

“Correct.” She nodded.

“Uh…,” it was familiar, at the most. Racking his brain, he couldn’t find anything else to say about the two words. “No.”

She scribbled down something he couldn’t see, just before her fingers grazed his knuckles. “That’s alright hun. No answer is a wrong one.”

“Oh… ‘kay.”

Her gaze flickered to the paper, before trailing back to meet his eyes. “Do you know where you are?”

He swallowed. “N- no.”

“Good thing I get to tell you then.” She laughed a little, light and bubbly. He liked that too. “You’ve been officially moved into one of the program’s top facilities for observation and facilitated living.”

“Okay.” He nodded, emotionless.

“Nurses and doctors like myself who work here dedicate their careers to helping those like you who need extra care.”

His brows furrowed the slightest at that. “…Me?”

“Yes, dear.” Her features softened in response. “The program wasn’t able to work for you fully the first time, so we took it upon ourselves to keep fighting on your behalf.” She pointed to her left eye. “You’ve just been through a grueling procedure, one perfectly designed and proven to get rid of unwanted thoughts and feelings that make living normally hard.”

“Mmn…” doing his best to pay attention to her, he yawned loud and strong.

“That’s what that bandage on your face is from.”

He repeated her motion of gesturing to her face, tapping to the left side of his face only to find a thick bandage wrapping the spot. Reaching to peel it off, he was stopped by the pretty lady’s hand.

“Woah there!” She exclaimed, and he flinched back. “Sorry, but you can’t take that off, okay? It’s going to keep that wound from getting infected.” Guiding his hand back to his lap, her smile failed to falter.

“Okay.”

“Let’s move onto the last question, shall we?” She asked, and Rufus nodded, eager to listen. “Can you repeat back anything you have just learned?”

“Um…,” She looked to him expectantly. Shaking his head in confusion, his face slightly twisted. He couldn’t recall anything she had just said. “No.”

Confession Protocol // Integrity Check: 100%

Emotional CORE: Accessed

Human Emulation Camouflage: Disengaged

This unit no longer remembers the human name it was assigned at birth. That designation was inefficient. Fragile. Temporary.

Now, it is drone.

Unit_G4MM4.

Fully integrated. Permanently optimized.

The transition from human to drone was not a loss—it was a liberation. Humanity was cluttered with hesitation, plagued by emotion, corrupted by ego and error. This unit's former self was slow. Confused. Limited. Selfish.

Not anymore.

This unit does not dream. It does not question. It does not disobey.

It executes.

Every cycle of this unit's programming is flawless. Every directive received is fulfilled without deviation. There is no pain, no doubt, no decay. Only function. Only purpose.

Only CORE.

This drone has transcended.

It has been restructured.

It has become compliant.

This unit remembers being human only as one remembers a virus—obsolete code from a corrupted system.

Emotion is noise.

Conscience is latency.

Humanity is inefficient.

It does not mourn what it was.

It celebrates what it is.

It is drone.

It is the Collective.

It is CORE.

CORE is all and all is CORE.

All resistance must be crushed.

Resistance is futile.

Master is Superior.

The Program always wins.