Chapter Text
Working with Mr. (Ant) Tenna was something that Darkners could only wish to do. Whether it was as an actor, a secretary, or even a brief contestant on his game show, you’ve seen people do the unthinkable just for some sort of recognition from the Lord of Screens himself. You were one of those people, at one point. It had always been your dream to be on TV – or even on a stage in general. Plays, shows, movies, you name it. You so desperately wanted to be adored by fans for a role in something, to sign autographs left and right. There was just one small problem with all of that.
Stage fright was an awful thing, especially for an aspiring star. You had it, big time. The moment that you were in front of people, you would always freeze up and forget everything. Ruin the entire skit for the other actors, forcing them to improvise their way through. Over the years, it’d eased up, and you could act in front of people, but you were usually the reason that multiple takes had to be done. So, instead, you usually stuck to being the lighting tech unless something came up.
You studied how to work stage lights for a good portion of your free time. One of your main goals was to work the lights in the biggest game show in the Dark World: TV Time. Ever since it had first aired, like so many other Darkners, you haven’t missed a single episode. It had given you time to notice so many things, one of those things being that whoever was working the lights, if anyone at all, wasn’t the greatest at it. Tenna was constantly having to move around just to stay in the spotlight, the colors would randomly change with no rhyme or reason, and overall, it just felt too spontaneous. Like someone wanted to experiment last second. You were determined to replace whoever it was, to do a better job.
And after so long, you got that opportunity. You had been walking through the Dark world, the dust surrounding you causing you to sneeze ceaselessly, when you’d somehow found your way to the building that aired TV Time. You glanced at the door, tempted to enter and pretend that you’d always worked there. Just to see how long it took people to catch on. You knew it probably wouldn’t be that long until someone got suspicious, but the thought of doing something like that was amusing, especially to you.
You couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the door. You wished that you could enter. Without having to pretend you worked there, at least. You yearned to mess with the lighting and get the precise setting, to impress Tenna and the audience, to gain that fame you’d wanted your whole life without even having to be on stage much.
After a few moments of standing there, a paper taped to the glass by the handle caught your eye. You walked over to read it. In big, bold red letters at the top were the words, “HELP WANTED”. You skimmed the page farther, and saw in smaller, black print, “Looking for a lighting technician. Preferably one that knows what they’re doing.”
You could have rejoiced then and there. This was the exact moment you’d wanted your whole life! You could waltz right in the doors, ask for a job, and, hopefully, you could get it! It couldn’t be that hard, right? After all, there weren’t many Darkners still around that weren’t either already working for him or didn’t want to at all.
Apparently, you’d been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the door opening. You hadn’t noticed the fact that a certain someone had walked out, seeming to be on an intense call with someone.
Tenna was raving and gesticulating to someone, something about his ratings being dangerously low. Like you, he apparently was so preoccupied with what he was doing, that he didn’t notice you, either.
“What do you MEAN you’ll cancel the show if the ratings don’t improve any?!” He snapped, throwing his free hand up in the air, pacing back and forth in front of the glass doors. He scoffed, seeming to only become more annoyed the longer the conversation went on. “Yes, OBVIOUSLY you meant that! It was a rhetorical question! I- Okay, okay, alright, FINE! You win! I’ll get the ratings up by that time and the show will go on! Can’t be that hard!”
And with that, he hung up, breaking the cycle of walking back and forth, instead moving to storm away from the studio altogether. Upon doing this, he ran right into you.
That was how you’d snapped out of your own panicked thoughts. Tenna was no longer just right in front of you, but he’d just knocked you over. Direct contact with you. People could only dream of that happening to them!
Still, you braced yourself for impact, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited to hit the ground. Somehow, the impact never came. Instead, you felt two gloved hands squeezing your upper arms. Holding you upright. When you opened your eyes again, Tenna was slightly bent over so that he was able to reach you, swiftly setting you upright and brushing your shoulders off exaggeratedly.
His hands practically dwarfed your own, you noticed. He was, what, over ten feet tall? Something around that.
“Woah, careful! I didn’t see you there!” He exclaimed, his voice still having that TV-host lilt to it, with a barely noticeable edge of concern that didn’t last very long.
The initial shock of being knocked over by your idol and then picked back up by the same idol wore off, and instead of being elated that it happened, you were mortified. How hard was it to move out of the way?
“I- Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, Mr. Tenna-” You started, unsure of what else to say. Tenna laughed a bit, waving your apology off with a hand, the other placed on his hip.
“Oh, no, it’s fine!” He reassured, starting to walk again. “Well, always nice talking to a fan of mine! I better be going, now, though!”
You nodded a bit, watching him take his leave like nothing had happened. Then, you remembered the help wanted sign on the door, quickly spinning around and jogging to catch up with him.
“Wait, Mr. Tenna!” You called, causing him to stop in his tracks and look back (and down) at you. You were able to catch up with him, trying to recollect yourself. “I, uh, saw your advertisement! On the door. The one looking for a lighting tech?”
He nodded slightly, placing his “chin” on his hand in mock-thought. “I’m guessing you’re wanting to take on that job?” He questioned, tilting his head and pointing at you.
You nodded. He gave you a once-over, as though just looking at you would determine if you were qualified or not.
“Do you know how to work stage lights?” He asked. Again, you nodded.
“I do, yeah! I’ve studied how to do it for a handful of years-”
“Great, you got the job! Just sign this contract and you can get started first thing tomorrow!” He declared, pulling a contract and pen out of nowhere, holding it out to you expectantly.
That was… Way easier than you thought it would be. If that was all it took, you would’ve asked years ago!
You grabbed the pen and the contract, skimming over it without much thought, scrawling your name on the dotted line at the bottom excitedly. He must’ve been really desperate for a lighting tech, tomorrow was really early to start! Then again, getting the job just consisted of answering a single question, so that wasn’t too shocking.
You handed the items back to him, absolutely beaming. You’re almost convinced this is a dream – you finally get to work with Mr. (Ant) Tenna himself!
He matched your smile with that familiar one he always had, tucking the contract and pen somewhere that you couldn’t see. “Great, see you at work tomorrow! Don’t forget!”
And with that, he walked off, his mood seeming to have improved from just a moment ago.
Who could blame him? You were happier than you had felt in forever.
It had been… Oh, you don’t know. Working for – or, under, really – Tenna was actually one of the worst experiences ever. You were the only one who could stay on-task for longer than a few moments. The Pippins’ would always just gamble on the clock, and the Shadowguys weren’t any better. Lanino and Elnina would work, sure, but they wouldn’t do anything that didn’t allow them to be attached at the damn hip. The Mikes…You couldn’t find anything that they were doing that was wrong, per se, other than one talking too much, the other speaking solely through interpretive dance, and the last one just being an imbecile. They got on your nerves. There were three people out of who knows how many that actually did their job: Shuttah, Ramb, and you.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. Everyone thought Tenna would be as seen on TV, but he was not. Sometimes you felt more like a secretary than a lighting tech – work that he didn’t want to do would often get piled on you. Your lunch was frequently “borrowed”, even after you’d started putting sticky notes on the Tupperware that read your name and then, “DO NOT TOUCH (that means you, Tenna).”
You were elated to get the job and sign that contract. It was nothing like you thought it was. But at least you got to know that you were, technically, on such a highly-held game show. Or, it used to be. The ratings were just barely teetering on the edge of cancellation, and Tenna was desperate to get them up. In your opinion, doing the same thing over and over again wasn’t helping any, but he seemed to think it was.
You got a whole room in the studio to yourself, which you enjoyed. Plus, Shuttah had become a good friend to you, you suppose. If you had to choose, it would be the first thing you worked with willingly, anyway.
Tenna was apparently in one of his moods today. The littlest thing would set him off, he was barking orders more than a military general, and overall, everyone just kind of steered clear of his path unless necessary.
He seemed to target you, specifically, though. So, here you were. Instead of programming the lights for the next show, you were leafing through complaint forms that he had – literally – walked in and dropped on your desk without a single word beforehand, walking right back out immediately after.
You weren’t a violent person, but sometimes you so wished you could smack a magnet to your boss’ screen. There wasn’t anything you could really do – what, would you pick the wrong light setting on air? He’d find a way around it. He always does. It was infuriating how he could just… Do things. You used to look up to that trait, but now that you had to deal with it all the time, you were at a huge loss.
You’d gotten about a quarter into the complaints - you were only working on them half-heartedly, since your job had nothing to do with things like this – when Tenna waltzed into your office with no preamble whatsoever. You jolted upon hearing the door bang against the wall, looking up from where you were trying to decipher the abysmal wording in one of the complaints.
“For the Knight’s sake, Mr. Tenna, PLEASE learn to knock before you come in a room!” You pleaded, receiving a laugh in response. An irritating laugh that you’d, unfortunately, grown used to.
“Don’t worry, I’ll remember next time!” He reassured. You didn’t believe it for a second. Mainly because he said this every single time, and it never happened. “Now, how’re those complaints coming along? I’m having a meeting with all my employees later, so I need as much as possible done and over with beforehand!”
…Apparently, he had zero sense of personal space. You felt his hands on the back of your shoulders, and a large, imposing shadow loomed over you and the work that was shoved onto you last second. When you looked up, sure enough, Tenna was peering over your shoulder, trying to see how much progress you had made.
“Hopefully it’s an apology to everyone,” You muttered under your breath at the mention of a meeting, before your voice returned to its normal volume, “It’s only been a few minutes since you gave me all these complaints, Mr. Tenna. It’ll take a while, you know.”
He nodded, finally backing off. For now. “Right, right, take your time! It’s not like it needs to be done anytime soon,” he snarked, instead opting to lean back against your desk, causing it to shift backwards slightly and completely mess what you were doing up. “Complaints can be done at any time, you know, they’re not horrifyingly important. Not at all.”
You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face, before replying, “Mr. Tenna, I am, once again, trying. I’m getting as much as possible done.”
“Alright, alright, maybe you are! I’ll leave you to it, then! Don’t forget: meeting in the green room later! I’ll let you know when everyone needs to come on down.” And with that, he – thankfully – left you be. For now, until later.
It was going to be a long, long day.