#vicsecagent

“Be careful with the controls, agent.”

Second was so confused.

Either of his wrists were caught in circle handcuffs, his arms raised from his body and halfway through a T pose, and his feet were planted firmly in the ground of the test box, like the one where the scientists instructed him to use his pencil.

The boss of the place, the small nametag pinned to his coat calling him Vic, was in the box with him while his right hand man stood outside, probably controlling what the circle handcuffs were doing to Second's movement.

“Now listen here.” Second turned to ‘Vic’, “Prior to you fighting my mercenaries, we had no business with you. After you did, we were only interested in your weapon of choice, that pencil. We planned on interrogating you further but upon discovering your powers…”

Second bit the inside of his cheek. “Powers that I didn't know about-”

“And powers that we will learn about soon enough.” Vic cut him off. “Now before that, I do have some questions.”

Second watched Vic turn his back to him and walk to the small slit in the wall of the box, the only other opening between the two of them and the agent, to retrieve a tablet glowing with the list of questions Second would probably have no answers for.

“First question, what is your relation with The Chosen One?” Second could feel the intense glare the agent directed his way and could feel his blood run cold as Vic stared with ice for eyes.

“Well, he's saved me and my friends in the past and I.. Apparently saved him too. When my powers supposedly activated..” Second redirected his gaze from the two onto what he could make out of the control panel outside the box. “But uh, after that we didn't see each other for about… Five years? Yeah, until now.”

Vic hummed, Second could hear the distrust in that noise. “I see. Follow-up question, was there any specific reason why he came to you for help against my agents?”

“Besides raving like a lunatic to me about my powers? No.” There was a bitter grin growing on Second's face, he wouldn't say he hated The Chosen One, but he wouldn't say he liked him either.

Second managed to catch the agent at the control panel stifling an amused smile, schooling his expression on the spot, while Vic covered a huff of air with a sigh. “Right. Next question then. Any relation with.. A cursor?”

At that, Second looked up in confusion, being met with Vic's eyes again, which were so focused on him that Second almost felt them burn a hole into his face.

“Uh, yes, my creator.”

Vic's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before hardening. “Name.”

Second didn't let himself cower, though he may have acted a bit too bold with his own question. “Why? Got someone in mind?”

“And if I do? What's it to you?” Vic stepped forward, making Second strain his neck back.

“Maybe a few answers as to what you want from me?”

Vic scoffed in his face. Up close like this, Second perfectly saw the grey one's eyebags, could even smell the coffee tainting his lips as every wrinkle and bit of lint embedded in his black coat and turtleneck laying beneath came into view clearer.

“Do you want to keep me here because my powers are dangerous or do I have use for you..?” Second saw the way Vic flinched, but the stickfigure hid it by stepping back and crossing his arms.

“And what does such information serve you? Comfort?”

“Sorta,” Second shrugged. “It might affect how willing I am to answer you. I mean, if you want to use my powers to destroy or conquer the world or something then tough luck, I'm not telling you shi-”

“Do you really see your powers exclusively as a means of destruction?”

Vic stepped forward again, there was now a fire in his eyes that did nothing to melt the ice in them. Second now had to lean his whole body back for space, feet still stuck to the ground and hands stuck in the same position in the air held up by the circle cuffs.

“Do you not know the good your powers could bring to this city? To this world we call Internet?”

“I mean… Sure, laser eyes could be used for some mundane activity-”

“No, no, not that!” Vic snapped in exasperation, taking a moment to compose himself before he knit his brows. “You really don't remember?”

“No…? What are you talking about, exactly?”

Vic and the agent shared a look before they both sighed and Vic faced Second again, back to a comfortable distance.

“You can resurrect the dead.”

The world stopped for Second, his eyes began to sting from how long he's kept them wide for.

“..I can.. what?”

“Yes. And that is precisely why we need your powers.” At Second's questioning look, Vic went on to explain. “You see, many years ago, The Chosen One attacked the Newgrounds website, causing destruction and killing many innocents. And before you say anything, we won't ask you to resurrect everyone, that would be near impossible. All we ask for is.. A few of our dear friends, perhaps..?”

Second stared at the grey figure, eyes now stealing glances back at the agent who had a somber look initially before realizing Second was looking and pathetically attempted to cover it up.

Yeah, so, Second may be getting closer to outright hating The Chosen One. Dear Cursors, Second had been told by Alan of the chaos the black stickfigure had caused on his computer, but hearing that he was behind a genocide? Where was The Dark Lord in all of this? Did she not take part or did she not make it to the front page?

After a moment of silence to process, to question and to pay respects to the lost lives all those years ago, Second regained his voice. “I… I'm sorry. I really, really don't know how to use my powers. I'd help if I could, but-”

“And that's why we will help you uncover and control them.” Vic said firmly, eyes fixed on Second.

The orange stickfigure blinked. “Oh- Oh right, you uh, okay. How then?”

There was amusement in Vic's eyes, a brief sight before he walked away to give back the tablet, the rest of the questions seemingly discarded.

“You will tell us about how your body operates, how you take care of it and such, and we will build up theories on how your powers correlate to your biology as we go along. Sounds good?”

Second hummed, still focused on the tablet.

“What?” Vic stood beside him and followed his gaze.

“..Did you have any more questions you forgot to ask or did you only use that tablet for show?” A small smirk crept up Second's face as Vic's own face wore a flustered expression. Past the transparent walls, Second saw the agent finally smile genuinely, although it was small.

“Oh spare me your curiosity, the Q&A is over.” That actually got a chuckle out of Second to the despair of Vic's eyeroll.

“Okay, okay, so how do we begin?”

“You can begin by describing to us your work-out routine.” Vic looked over Second's body, his muscles evident through the white singlet and shorts he was wearing (thanks Chosen One for dragging him to fight in pajamas…), which may or may not have flustered Second for a moment there.

“Um.. Well I do most of my training in Minecraft with my friends, but we also spar together in the animation program Al-” Second cut himself off. “Uh-... My creator and I use…”

Vic became even more focused on Second at that slip up. “Oh? Minecraft, you say?” Though of course he acted oblivious to it.

“Yeah, we began playing in, like… I think almost ten years ago, wow. But anyway, we've sort of been living with Minecraft mechanics and tools since forever. So we train by slaying monsters, speedrunning the game, messing around with mods and such…”

The grey stick hummed, and Second could feel the eyes on him. “..May I?” When Second turned his head to follow Vic's pointing finger, he ended up staring down at his own arm.

“Oh, o..kay?” He was pretty sure that Vic was asking to touch his arm.

“You sound unsure.”

“Are you asking to touch my arm?”

“...Yes.”

“Then go ahead. I don't mind.” Vic still gave him one last chance to take his words back before landing his hands on Second's bicep.

Freezing hands, Second would add, but he didn't say anything.

Second was used to touch, more than anyone could admit probably with how touchy and comfortable he and his friends were around each other. So much so that when Purple became a part of the group he confessed that for the longest time he thought they were all in a polycule, which got a good laugh out of them.

But it still felt a bit weird to feel someone other than his friends feel up his muscles. Vic squeezed his bicep carefully as though to not cause discomfort, continuing the movement up and down.

“..I can't tell if you have very tense muscles or a very strong build..” Vic muttered but it could still be heard through the box, as Second saw the agent type on the tablet right after his boss spoke.

“You could say it's both..”

“Hm.” Vic's gaze went back up to Second's face. “And your sleep schedule?” He must've asked that upon seeing the orange one's eyebags.

“I try to go to sleep at, like, 11 PM and wake up at around 7. But these past years I've been waking up at the slightest noise, so…”

Vic stared at the eyebags for a little longer while the agent looked up from the tablet resting on the control panel, being the one to speak this time through a small microphone on the panel. “Could your lack of sleep be stunting the access to your powers?”

Well damn Second hadn't heard this dude's voice in full until now- I mean uh- “Uh- Maybe? I don't know.”

“And what about your diet?” Vic stepped back now, hands no longer on Second's arm.

“Well.. My friends and I don't just use Minecraft for training. We also exclusively eat Minecraft food.” Second immediately felt the bewildered looks sent his way. “And I- I know it's probably not a good thing, at least according to two other friends of mine that have actually lived in the Internet. Unlike us.”

“Hold on, hold on- If you've never lived here before, where have you been?” The agent was so baffled by this information while Vic seemed to be getting an idea.

“My whole life I've lived on my creator's desktop. The first time I went out into the Internet was when we faced The Dark Lord.”

The agent only looked more flabbergasted by the second, even confused when hearing about ‘‘The Dark Lord’’—sorta confirming that the red psycho didn't become infamous like The Chosen One—Vic meanwhile narrowed his eyes and locked his eyes on Second.

“I.. See.”

He couldn't take this anymore. “Okay. What is up with this whole cursor and creator vendetta you've got going on?”

Second held his breath when Vic got up close again, so much so this time that his breath grazed Second's chin, and poked his chest with a finger.

“Because some of us don't have such peaceful and buddy-buddy relationships with our dear animators. Just trying to be cautious here.”

The two stayed like that for a bit, the discomfort growing evident in Second's eyes and breath the more Vic stayed up so close. He forgot how cruel creators could be. Or at least how cruel Alan once was as his creator. It made Second feel guilty for asking but it was what he needed to understand the grey stick better.

With softening eyes, Second lowered his tense shoulders. “...You know, my creator wasn't nice at first.”

That earned a step back and a pair of crossed arms so Second went on, “When I came to life, I waited until he left the room so I could mess around on his computer, that's actually how I met my friends. They were a part of this fighting game.. Whatever. When my creator came back and saw stickfigures messing around on his computer, well…”

Second trailed off, the memories of grasping onto Green one last moment before poofing out of existence in his arms and while all the fun he and his friends had disappeared around him… It soured his expression, which attracted Vic's full attention.

“...He deleted my friends. Temporarily, at least. Then he tried deleting me but.. Maybe my powers activated or something cause I felt this strange.. Energy coursing through me along with all my grief.” The mention of his friends’ deaths straightened both Vic and the agent's backs. “So yeah, we fought a while, he eventually cornered me, actually trapped me in a select box like I was with the other scientists earlier, which… I may have discovered a new phobia but uh-”

“Shit..” He heard Vic mumble, sounding disappointed in himself like he also knew how tight and suffocating and small everything felt when in a box like that. Second didn't question it though.

“..I managed to convince him otherwise when I spoke. Like, uh, made text appear next to me. I sometimes do that when I yell loud enough. And that made him realize that I wasn't artificial intelligence, but instead just.. Digital intelligence. So we made a deal, I teach him how to animate properly and he leaves me alone. Of course, I only accepted after he refreshed my friends' page and brought them back to life.”

There was bitterness etching into the two other stickfigures' faces, envy. “And your point?” Vic grumbled beside him.

“..The people behind the screens that make us don't know how awake and aware we are. They take us for granted and view us as silly little guys that do nothing but wreck their stuff out of mischief instead of curiosity and wonder about the world. I don't know what you've been through, either of you,” He glanced at the agent, “and I don't have any intention of changing your mind or making you worship these dumb cursors, but at least think about this perspective.”

“Right. And if a creation hadn't done anything to deserve that sort of treatment? If all it did was exist before it began being its creator's ragdoll?” Second didn't even need to ask to know that that was how Vic was treated.

“Then…” There was no point in defending such action and Second sure as Nether wouldn't defend it anyway. He shrugged, “Then I guess that creator's just a dumbass. A dumbass who created life and doesn't know it.”

That received a scoff of a laugh from the boss as the grey figure averted his eyes to the floor.

“...Are we going to continue the topic or should we focus on the whole ‘‘how to awaken my powers’’ thing?”

“Yeah, we should get back to business.”

“Cool, uh, cause I just realized I have some questions.”

Vic tilted his head and hummed curiously.

“Okay, so, where are the other scientists? Shouldn't they be here instead of the brains behind the operation? I mean, what if my powers do activate and they get out of control and harm either of you and there's no one to get a hold of me?”

“My scientists are currently working with another stickfigure handling some other matters for my plans, though there are a few past the doors that will come through when we're done with our analysis. I thought that it would be less suffocating to have less people surrounding you.”

“..still would've been a little smarter to have one or two more peeps here..” Second's mumble got a chuckle out of Vic.

“Well we've also discussed rather personal topics so imagine what chaos that would've sprouted amongst the gossips that I call employees.”

“Heh, alright, I got you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, uh-” Second pulled at his restrained wrists and failed to raise his feet from the ground. “Why am I restrained like this?” Listen, although he may never touch the green website with a 100 ft. pole, he was not innocent by any means. Unfortunately.

“It was all for the physical examination. The arms are raised at a comfortable angle to get a feel of all sides, we would've done the same for the legs but one worker advised it would be a more uncomfortable position than needed for the tests. So your feet are planted to the ground by two metal plates which we attached to your shoes and that are attracted to the magnetic floor in this box.” ..Okay good to know that this is all practical.

“Once we're done we can tie you to a chair instead, if you'd like?” Second nodded with a sound of agreement. “Good. Shall we continue?”

“Yes, uh, what now?”

“Now I'll be checking your legs too, if you don't mind, that is.”

Second shook his head so Vic leaned down a bit to reach his thigh, which instantly sent a shiver up Second's body because sweet fucking Cursors beyond those hands are cold as a damn glacier.

“Sorry-” Vic took his hand and stepped back, “Is everything okay-?”

“Yeah but your hands are freezing I didn't want to mention it earlier but holy shit.”

Vic blinked for a second before sighing and slumping his shoulders. The agent smirked behind the panel.

“Told you to wear gloves.”

“Yeah, fuck off already.” Vic groaned.

Second snickered at their bickering. It was a nice surprise to hear the grey stick talk outside of business mode. Vic cleared his throat.

“One moment.” He straightened and walked out the secured door to receive a pair of blue rubber-latex gloves from his agent before walking in again.

Vic then leaned back down and patted Second's thigh again, looking up for any signs of discomfort but he instead got a double thumbs up from the orange stick, which led to him keeping up the movement.

“I think all these years exclusively eating pixel food may have affected your body.” There was an underlying concern beneath the simple statement.

“Really?”

“Yes, I initially thought your blocky limbs were thanks to all the muscle you're carrying,” A small fire of pride lit up inside Second at the comment, maybe even the tiniest blush. “but I think it's actually a result of adapting to your environment. Say, have you ever even had a single bite of regular food?”

“Yes, uh, before my friends and I began depending on Minecraft, we ate whatever my friends found around their website, which was really just popcorn and sodas since in their game there was meant to be a point where they would spectate the current players if they weren't selected. Besides that, we also ate emoji and drawn food. Which- I do not recommend eating drawn food, it tastes so bland it's like eating air.”

There was a bit of silence, to which Second glanced at the agent, then at Vic, and they both conveyed the same expression of ‘‘are you serious?’’.

“..That's not regular food.”

“Well- At least it's non-Minecraft food.” He tried defending himself.

“Sure.” Second could just hear the eyeroll in the agent's voice.

Vic stepped back and looked over Second's body. “Anyways, would you mind lifting your shirt? We will remove the cuffs and I can leave the box if you'd prefer.”

“Oh, I don't mind, uh, do you technically need to be here?”

“In a way,” Vic trailed off, “we planned what all the tests would be the second that we locked you up more securely, but only now do I see how uncomfortable the touching portion could be.. So, uh, I initially thought of checking your abdomen and back as well.”

Second shrugged, straining the grip the cuffs had on his wrists. “Eh, it's not a problem. My friends and I are pretty physical and touchy by nature, so I'm already used to touches like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn't be saying all this if I wasn't.”

With a sigh, Vic nodded for his agent to deactivate the cuffs, which disappeared from around Second's wrists, giving him the freedom to lift his singlet.

Meanwhile Vic began again, “Okay, just to be sure, I can obviously just look and get an idea of- Holy shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” Second looked up at the two who were staring at his abdomen, although one stare was much more noticeable than the other.

In the end, Vic broke the baffled silence with a hesitant tone and dark blush slowly creeping up his neck. “..In the most respectful way ever, you have the nicest build I think I've ever seen.”

“Oh- Thanks..?” Second didn't understand why that would get such a rise out of the two other sticks. If they were flustered by Second, then he can't even imagine what they'd look like if they saw his friends.

“...I could chop, prepare, serve and eat dinner on those...” The agent muttered behind the glass, and by the tone it seemed that it was meant for himself alone. Which somehow flustered Second more.

Vic snapped his head to his agent instantly, face burning darker. “GUI! MIC.” That made the agent jump and immediately disconnect the microphone before collapsing his head in his hands.

Second laughed, if somewhat nervously, “Uh- Everything okay?” He let go of his shirt, letting it fall back over the major distraction.

“Yes, yes- Ahem.. Excuse us, we don't see many people with your..” The grey stick snapped his fingers continuously as the gears turned, trying to produce an appropriate word. “...physique.”

“It's okay, uh,” Second snickered, “You think you'll be okay for the rest of the tests?”

“Screens above, I should be asking you… Whatever, yes. Yes, I'll be alright, uh..” Vic stilled for a second, trailing off. “Right, I knew I was forgetting something. What's your name?”

Second was about to answer before remembering how this went the last time: My name's Second, I used to go by Orange before looking through my files so you can use that, What's Second short for?, You sure you want to know?, Okay it's short for TheSecondComing.exe, aka The Chosen One's Return. And then King's eyes almost left his skull.

And although that was funny when telling Purple and King Orange, now knowing the history Vic and the agent—apparently named GUI—had with The Chosen One, they probably wouldn't like that he was somehow linked with the guy.

So instead, “..Orange. And you're Vic, right?” He extended a hand.

The grey stick nodded and shook his hand, though there was a strange look behind his eyes. “Yes. Sorry for forgetting to ask much earlier.”

“Nah, it's fine. And, uh, you?” Second turned to agent GUI, who had recovered from his embarrassment.

The agent cleared his throat, “‘Agent’ works just fine.”

Huh, guess GUI is only reserved for Vic to call him. They seem close enough through the way they talked to each other, so Second supposed it made sense. He nodded in response.

“Let's get back on track. Yes, I think I can keep up the tests, but do you? Do you feel comfortable with me touching you knowing.. Er…” That dark blush was slowly but surely growing back and Second honestly thought it was adorable.

“I mean hey, my hands are free so if it gets weird I can just tap your arm or something.”

Vic paused for a moment and sighed. “You're right, you're probably strong enough to crush my hands off of you anyway..”

“I uh- I don't think I'd-”

“Lift your shirt please.”

“Right, right.”

Lifting his shirt up again just below his chest, Second watched as Vic composed himself and reached down, landing his hands on the abs that have been torturing him the whole time he's seen them.

In the end, Vic had somehow managed to push through all of the intense thoughts clouding his head and focus on examining all the while Agent typed any meaningful remark along the way.

“Yeah, I think Minecraft food isn't affecting your body too well. I haven't seen many abs in my lifetime, let alone up-close like this, but I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to be this square. Though I will say, your skin does feel much rougher and tougher than any other I've felt.”

Second drummed his fingers along the rim of his raised shirt. “Should I just take it off?”

“Well uh,” Vic stood up straight, his fingertips lingering on the skin. “Let's keep that for when the scientists come in.” Second nodded.

He still didn't really understand the point of having the boss of the company and his most trusted agent be the ones to examine a seemingly high threat and not the scientists. Was it really as simple as Vic just wanted to spill the tea on what the full picture was?

Nonetheless, Second watched as Vic turned around and walked out of the box, and when he began engaging with Agent regarding the tablet (or something, Second couldn't hear them, must have put the mic on mute) he took the time to look at his own abs. They were pretty square, he had to admit, but he didn't think it was that weird.

…Though his only other references are his friends.

———

“If it's not the video game food or the weird sleep schedule, then why can't he activate his powers?”

“Moreover, why did he lie about his name?” Victim stared at his scientists' notes from the pencil experiments.

“Orange”'s file name was “TheSecondComing.exe”, origin of the file coming from the IP address 45.36.254.23. More specifically, ALANSPC.

The same as Victim and The Chosen One.

Meaning that the same bastard who tortured Victim for months on end. For entertainment. Chose to change his ways because ‘Orange’ spoke to him. Or more like texted him.

Victim already hated his creator, Alan, but there was a growing envy of Orange within him too. And he wanted that. He wanted to hate the orange stick, the one that got the life many creations deserve to this day. Victim hated Orange.

…So then why did his brain keep telling him that he should worry? Alan only stopped the torment because Orange would teach him to draw and Orange only accepted because the man gave his friends back. Something was fishy about their relationship.

And if the creator only began changing his ways by the time he created Orange, then what did he do with The Chosen One? Victim couldn't bring himself to think of any sympathetic backstory for the monster, not like he even tried. So he instead guessed that the black stick escaped his maker to spread chaos.

“Vic?” He turned to face GUI. “Any plans?”

Victim pondered for a short while, glancing at Orange behind the glass. While the stick was looking down, he drew closer to the microphone, which was supposed to be mute by now. “Orange? Can you hear us?” When he got no response nor reaction, Victim turned away. Good, the mic was definitely off.

“..I want to keep Orange for a while longer. He's proven himself to be far more useful than just as a means to bring back everyone. Prepare a more comfortable cell for his stay, as far away from The Chosen One as possible.”

“Sending the request to our builders as we speak. And do we let the scientists come in now?”

“Yes.”

———

Done!! How was it? Are there any spelling mistakes? If there are do tell me before I post it to ao3!