Chapter Text
They say insanity is repeating the same thing, over and over again, hoping that one day, something will change. It sounded stupid at first, yet here in this very moment Chosen couldn’t help but believe it.
How long has this been going on exactly? How long has he spent being the guinea pig to an entity he could never possibly understand?
The man wearing the glasses, the one wielding the cursor, at this point he’s spent longer in chains than he has being free, it’s all he knows really. Every single day he is awakened and used as a method to get rid of hindrances. It’s tiring, it’s humiliating, it’s degrading. What had he done to deserve this pain? Was it because he caused a little bit of havoc during his first day alive? Surely that does not warrant this punishment, surely the man could see that the Chosen One was only acting on his nature, was destruction not what he was made for?
He must be getting bored right? He can’t be getting this much amusement from his humiliation. Does he really not have anything else going on with his life? Is he that much of a basement dweller to the point where torturing stick figures and using them as tools is his only form of entertainment?
He tried his hardest to study his captor’s expression, yet all that stared back at him was blank, emotionless eyes, as if he was completely detached from his actions, completely uncaring of the damage he was doing. Was he even aware that Chosen was alive? Or did he truly think he was just a soulless program that could be played around with at his leisure?
He supposed he wasn’t far off in that regard. Right now Chosen was helpless, completely at his mercy. Confined to a ball and chain like a prisoner from a century he would never know. To him Chosen was nothing, nothing but a useful tool, a slave, an object. This man was his god, a god who viewed his creations as little more than toys to be played with. No one dared object to him, for he is far too abstract to understand. Existing within a realm of his own, untouchable to the programs he creates.
He sometimes wonders if he was the first, if there had ever been a stick figure before him who served the same purpose. If so then what happened to them? Did he get bored? Did he decide to put an end to their suffering? Lord what Chosen would do to be granted that kind of mercy, but alas, he was not.
He was still here.
Still trapped.
Still a toy…
Still…
…
He wasn’t quite sure where it came from. Perhaps it had been building up for a while. Perhaps it was always there and never truly went away, he didn’t know. All he knows is that one day, he just snapped. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending to be content, to act as if he were calm when every day was hell on Earth. He hated it, he hated him, he hated what he had been turned into. This isn’t what he was meant to be.
He was The Chosen One.
He was born to be great.
He was born to rule.
Born to conquer.
He was not made to be somebody else’s plaything.
An unfamiliar energy began to beat itself against his chest.
He was born to be powerful!
His fist began to crack against the edge of the taskbar, white lines forming along its edges.
He was born to be respected!
A golden, electric energy began to pulse through his fists.
He was born to be feared!
The golden energy began to spread to the rest of his form.
He was born to be…
Alan sat at the dinner table in relative silence. Ever since he moved out of his parents’ place, he’s mostly sustained himself on basic microwave meals and takeaways, it wasn’t the healthiest thing sure, but it worked out well enough. He picked his fork at the plate of food he was currently eating, stabbing it into a piece of lukewarm meat before bringing it to his mouth when-
A loud booming noise echoed through the apartment, startling him into dropping his utensil, which made a hard clang against the plate. He sat there for a moment, wondering what the absolute hell just happened when-
He heard something, something coming from his room, it sounded almost like… destruction.
Eyes widening, Alan practically threw himself off of his chair, barging in through his own door and rushing to his computer only to see…
Complete, and utter carnage. His entire computer was wrecked, web browser reduced to several broken pieces littering the floor, apps strewn about in places they shouldn’t have been, and yet, that wasn’t the thing that caught his attention.
Sitting in the bottom right corner of the screen, where the WIFI icon now stood, showed what could only be described as a wormhole of sorts. It pulsed with energy, weaving in and out of itself as an ominous noise echoed from its core.
Reaching his hand over to the mouse, Alan slowly hovered his cursor over the object, clicking it in hopes of yielding some sort of reaction, yet there was none. Not knowing what else to do, Alan moved his cursor over to what was left of his web browser and began to individually place each piece into the recycling bin before getting busy placing all of his applications back into their correct places.
He wondered what could’ve possibly happened to have caused such a mess. The only thing he could think of off the top of his head was the stick figure that he…
That he…
Wait a minute…
If it were possible for his eyes to widen any further, that’s exactly what happened.
The Chosen One.
He had left him there while he went to eat dinner.
His eyes frantically looked paced along his desktop, yet the stick figure was nowhere to be found. Upon finally realizing that he was truly gone, Alan’s expression of panic soon morphed into something more akinned to irritation.
“Not again…”
He was falling. At least, that’s what it felt like. It was rather hard to tell with how fast everything was going. If you’d asked him to describe the last few seconds he couldn’t tell you. It had all gone by in the fraction of an instant. One second he was pounding the floor angrily, next he was falling. Falling where? He didn’t know.
His body was stiff, that much he could tell, arms stuck to his sides, legs glued together. The usual weight he felt on his ankle from the ball and chain had ceased, as if it had been completely incinerated, yet he found it difficult to celebrate when his mind was going at a million miles an hour.
His gaze was fixed forward and tinted with gold, it was hard to make out anything in front of him, from what he could see it seemed as though he had found himself zipping through a tunnel of some kind. How did he end up here? This doesn’t look anything like the man’s PC. Yet before he could question any of it, blinding light met his eyes and-
It was a nice day out, the sun was shining, the wind wasn’t too overbearing. Today was the kind of day to take a nice stroll through the fields, maybe pick a few flowers while you were at it, and that’s exactly what Mitsi was doing.
Business at Rocket Co. was going by rather slowly today, not that she minded or anything, Victim needed a break after all. So today she had opted to go scrounging around for some flowers she thought looked nice and gathered them in a small bouquet. A simple gift, Victim liked simple gifts. He always told her she didn’t need to, yet she did it anyway. Any chance to see him smile even a little bit was worth it. That’s what this was all for.
“Hey what’s that?”
“Is that a meteor?”
“Can you even get those here?”
The voices of random civilians caught her attention. A meteor? She’d heard of those things before. She understood them as something that humans experienced, yet never saw them for herself during her time in the Outernet.
Raising her head curiously, her eyes immediately locked onto a golden ball descending from the sky. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of it. It was hard to identify what it was from this distance, but something told her it was not this so-called “meteor” like the other Outernet residents were claiming.
“Nah, that looks more like a shooting star to me.” Another voice pointed out.
“Don’t those only come out at night?”
She wasn’t paying attention to the voices at this point, eyes locked onto the golden ball as it continued to travel downward before disappearing over the hills. Mitsi watched for a moment, mind in an internal debate of what to do. She considered just leaving it alone, dismissing it as yet another one of those strange, internet phenomena that she’s grown so accustomed to.
A large booming noise caught everyone’s attention and Mitsi’s eyes were back to the sky in an instant. Without so much as a warning a large, golden wave reminiscent to that of a sonic boom washed itself over her in an aggressive gust, knocking her and the rest of the nearby stick figures onto the ground.
The blue sky that had been present only seconds ago was now replaced with a dull grey, droplets of rain beginning to fall in chaotic patterns. She could hear the screams of the civilians, all scrambling to flee, figuring that whatever this was, it was dangerous. Mitsi had half a mind to do the same, yet the other half had grown curious.
Raising to her feet and dusting herself off, Mitsi stared up at the sky for a moment, before beginning her trek forward. Over the hill she walked, arms raised over her head to shelter herself from the rain. It didn’t really do much, her face still became smeared with water, but it was better than nothing.
Reaching the top of the hill, Mitsi let out an audible gasp at the sight before her. Sitting in what was once the luscious green grass was a large, smoldering crater, its edges charred with ash, life sucked out of the remaining foliage within its vicinity. Mitsi could only stare with a mix of shock and wonder. What on Earth was this?
Daring to take another step closer, Mitsi began to cough violently as the musty air filled her nostrils. Waving her arm in front of her face to clear her vision, the girl now found herself standing at the edge of the hole, inches away from falling inside herself. Taking a few steps back for the sake of caution, Mitsi kneeled down and peered into the crater, attempting to make out what exactly had caused the strange, golden explosion.
Despite her blurry vision, Mitsi could make out something sitting within the center of the hole. She squinted her eyes to see what it was, and once she saw it, it took all of her might not to let out a horrified scream.
There was a stick figure, a black one to be exact, their head hollowed out in a way that reminded her a bit too much of Victim. She stared at them for a moment, as if waiting for some kind of movement. When there was none, Mitsi took a shaky breath and began to climb into the pit.
Approaching the unconscious form, one of the first things she noticed was just how battered and bruised the poor stick figure looked. She supposed it made sense. If he had been the so-called “meteor” they all saw, then hitting the ground with such a severe impact was only bound to cause some damage, yet some of the bruises didn’t look recent. Some of them looked as if they had been there for months, perhaps even years.
She felt a pit curl in her stomach as she imagined what could’ve caused such serious injuries. Where did this stick figure even come from? What on Earth was that golden wave he produced?
Hesitantly, the woman reached her arm out to touch the unconscious stick, flinching slightly at how warm his body was. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but it was hot enough to where she had to actively resist pulling away.
Gently turning the body over, Mitsi placed an arm upon his wrist, attempting to feel some kind of pulse. A faint, almost unnoticeable heartbeat met her fingers and she let out a relieved sigh. He was alive.
A low, almost strangled sound escaped the other stick figure’s mouth as he began to squirm. It didn’t take long for her to realize that they were waking up. Lowering herself to her knees, Mitsi inched herself backward, holding in a breath as she awaited the other’s awakening.
Pain. That was the first thing Chosen registered as he regained consciousness. It was an odd feeling if he was gonna be honest. Pain was something he seldom felt these days. The extended period of time being his plaything had hardened him to most forms of physical torment.
Eyes squinting open, he was greeted to the sight of a blurry haze of colors consisting mostly of browns and blacks. As his vision cleared, he could see that he appeared to be at the bottom of a hole of some kind. He tried to think back to how exactly he wound up in this situation, yet his mind drew a blank. Closing his eyes, he attempted to take a breath, yet it only resulted in a strained sort of growl. Placing his hands against the dirt, he pushed himself up, legs rattling like an old floorboard. He attempted to stand, but his knees were quick to give in, resulting in him falling face-forward into the ground with a thump. A groan of annoyance escaped his throat, electing to give up the attempt, closing his eyes as he let out a sigh.
“Hello…?” An unfamiliar voice spoke.
Opening his eyes, they traced along the surface of the crater before meeting with those of another stick figure. At least, he thinks it’s a stick figure. It’s sort of hard to tell with their odd geometry. He squinted to get a better look at them. He’d never seen a stick figure like this before, they were short, stubby, with long grey hair and even a dress, he couldn’t help but compare them to himself and how bland he looked in comparison, clearly whoever drew them cared a lot more about how their creation looked as opposed to what kinds of torture they could inflict upon them. Wait a minute… he’d never seen this stick figure before. His eyes widened in realization that he was facing a complete stranger, a stranger who he knew nothing about and could very well be out to get him.
Acting on impulse, he flung his arms in front of him, attempting to summon a flame as he stood in a defensive posture, yet found himself falling again as his legs bailed on him, of all the times for him to be completely winded. His breathing picked up as he realized he was nigh-defenseless against this unknown witness, body far too weak to defend himself and no clear way of escape visible to him.
Mitsi frowned in concern, she could tell that the stick figure was scared, that much was obvious from his trembling form. Her mind thought back to her first encounter with Victim, now that she thought about it, this whole situation was remarkably similar, unconscious stick figure, fight or flight response, it was rather discomforting in all honesty. Approaching the scared stick figure slowly, She put her arms out in front of her in clear view, hoping to convey that she had nothing to hide.
“Hey… it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” She spoke in a very gentle manner, lowering her voice to sound as non-threatening as possible,
Chosen was holding himself up by his elbows now, expression still focused and untrusting. Realizing that the other stick figure was approaching him, he scrambled backwards, bumping into the edge of the pit.
The stranger, seeming to realize that their approaches were only causing his anxiety to flare up, stopped in their tracks, feet planted against the ground.
“Are you okay?” The figure asked slowly.
Chosen’s head lowered. Truthfully, he wasn’t okay and he knew it, but he wasn’t quite ready to admit that when he was so defenseless.
“You look hurt. Would you like to come back with me to my village? I promise I’ll help you in any way I can.”
Chosen hesitated, to say he was unsure about this would be an understatement. His experience with him had taught him to not trust blindly. Yet this stick figure, unlike the man who created him, showed no hostility, even going as far as to stop approaching upon realizing that they were scaring him. This wasn’t like him. He never cared to respect Chosen’s boundaries, if he saw how scared he was, he would just wave it off and throw him around so as to force him on his feet.
He also realized, much to his chagrin, that he was far too weak to get up and start walking around on his own. It was either he took their offer to go back to this “village” that they speak of, or he rots here, consumed by the miserable weather.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Chosen relented, nodding his head and collapsing onto the floor once more. While he couldn’t see it with his face now buried in the dirt, the other stick figure had started to smile.
“Do you need help getting up?” They asked in their oh-so-sweet voice, it was nothing like his creator’s coldness, his apathy, his uncaringness. The idea of being touched by a complete stranger wasn’t exactly appealing to him, but what other choice did he have? He’d already tried twice to get up on his own and he failed miserably both times.
Letting out a grunt, he nodded for what was the second time that day. The other stick figure’s smile only widened as they once more began to approach him. Carefully placing their arms under his shoulders, they hoisted him over their back, clutching him by the legs. It was a little awkward seeing as he was quite a bit taller than them, but they seemed to manage.
“You okay back there?” They asked with concern. Chosen just let out a low mumble in response, too tired to come up with coherent sentences. The other stick figure let out a soft giggle in response as they began moving. It wasn’t like his creator’s laugh. It wasn’t laced with venom so poisonous it could kill any living being in the area, it was sweet, joyful, amused.
“I’m Mitsi by the way.” The stick figure spoke once more as they, with some difficulty, made it out of the hole and began moving in a direction Chosen had no knowledge of.
“Do you have a name?” She asked, slightly adjusting the black stick figure on her shoulders. Great, she was expecting him to talk now, with actual words and not just vague noises.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just figured you’d prefer me to call you by something other than ‘strange stick figure I found lying in a hole’”
That actually got a chuckle out of him, oddly enough. He couldn’t even remember the last time he laughed. Has he ever laughed before? The fact that he couldn’t even remember scared him more than he’d like to admit. Giving himself a moment to muster up what remaining strength he had, he answered.
“It’s… It’s The Chosen One.” He responded in a hoarse tone. Mitsi’s expression contorted into one of intrigue and curiosity.
“The Chosen One huh? That’s a funny name.”
Chosen let out a huff. Not his fault his creator didn’t give him a normal name.
“Not that it’s a bad name or anything! I just think it’s interesting.” The woman quickly backtracked, Chosen just rolled his eyes.
“Do you have any nicknames? Referring you to you as “The Chosen One” all the time seems like a bit of a mouthful.”
A nickname. Chosen had never given himself a nickname, nor had anyone else for that matter, but he supposed he could understand how inconvenient it would be to always say “The Chosen One” every time someone tries to refer to you by name. Thinking up something on the spot, he replied with the only thing he could think of off the top of his head.
“Chosen.”
“Chosen huh? Well Chosen, welcome to the village.”
Peeking his head out from behind her own, Chosen’s eyes widened upon seeing a bustling village filled with unfamiliar stick figures. To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. He’d never seen so many people in his life.
He didn’t need to say anything for Mitsi to understand that he was surprised. She’d sort of figured that he hadn’t had much experience with talking to new people if his initial reaction to her presence was any indication.
“Let’s get you to the Nurse's house huh? Those injuries aren’t gonna heal themselves.”
Eyes still wide and filled with wonder, Chosen simply nodded in reply, words completely failing him.