Chapter Text
1983
Another day at the arcade, another dollar.
That’s what Knicknacks buds all around his game spouted like the gospel. Of course, he faltered at the whole ‘getting used to being plugged in’ feeling. Running around his homeland like a rooster with its head chopped off, he’d dodge, dash, etcetera. It felt embarrassing, he despised being second fiddle to the main character of his machine, Mailbrick. Not in an egotistical way, but in an attempt to dodge the spotlight whenever Mailbrick would collect him, then bring him on some quest to thwart whatever evil lurked. He hated eyes on him, afraid he’d screw things up if he didn’t stick to his programming.
Programming. Right. He was the titular nerd character who would give random inquiries of advice and lingo that he would belt out periodically. If the player got stuck, he’d help, whether it be puzzles, sword crafting, or whatever medieval sci-fi babble. It bored him.
His sanctum was when the arcade closed for the night. Then he’d slip away from his game without saying goodbye, even if Mailbrick or the gang reached out for a quick conversation, he’d mumble a few words then with a deadpanned stare leave after being too tired to converse or keep up his masking. With his social battery empty, he’d jump onto a tram and ride off into Game Central Station to be gawked at even more. His favorite pastime was going off to hand a few of his in-game currency to the unhoused characters. He had low empathy, but he knew if someone needed help, he’d give out as much information or handouts as possible.
It was tiring going out even when he was so exhausted, granted he’d get an occasional compliment from his neighbours who had heard about his game or seen him strolling about, which was… Fine. Yet an underlying feeling bubbled from inside his code. If it was all vanity or out of pity.
He sighed as he stumbled through, passing by whomever would make way for him, he pondered about parties he’d get invited to. Even if it was an occasional big bash for the newcomers, he wasn’t exactly “high definition,” that most characters were looking for. He hated talking too much, forced to put up this facade of a happy, friendly, bounding pixel NPC. He just wanted to wind down. Maybe they had gone out of their way to ask him as a joke. Of course, that was probably it. He’d never go to things like that, too much chit-chat!
His known personality wasn’t who he truly was, inside he was an insecure husk.
He tugged on one of the pointy ears of his jester-like hat. The bell attached to the tip made a cute but mocking ring. He trudged as he passed socket entryways, not giving them a second glance. That was until he noticed quite a few people walking into the tramway of a game he actually recognized. In big lettering above the plug were the words ‘Tapper's.’ As he walked by, he stopped at the track and stared down at the large tunnel. He remembered talk of Tapper's from when he first began to depart from his game.
He shook his head, bells ringing. As if he’d fit in there. He was too socially inept to have a decent conversation with anybody. That was until he perked up at at white and red racer trotting in with a large trophy in hand, but suddenly a blue forcefield apprehended the racer from taking another step into the plug. He was being questioned. Knicknack’s eyes widened as he watched from afar.
Perhaps… If somebody that was so important that they had a trophy in hand, could be halted (which seemed embarrassing in his mind) then he could possibly do his best to grab a drink then feather out.
The wings on the side of his head bundled up, then with a huff he scuttled towards the entrance to Tappers with the comical pitter patter of his boots squeaking. As soon as the fellow was finished with his line of questioning, he roamed to the carts with haste. Kicknack pretended to be disinterested as he scooted towards the doorway, until he followed suit of being stopped.
“Woah!” He squeaked, staring up at the surge protector with annoyance in his gaze.
“Name? Game?” The surge protector asked, not looking up from his notepad, all the while frankly looking bored and unamused.
“Uh.” Knicknack coughed, unprepared. “Knicknack, Biocry is my game. Do you mind? I’ve kind of got somewhere to be.” He flicked his tail, gesturing to the carts.
The surge protector raised his brows but still didn’t pay a close eye to Knack. “Fair enough, proceed.”
Knicknack stared him down, happy he got his point across. The barrier was uplifted, but he was about to miss the tram. Knack gasped and with his tail in the wind he pounced onto a seat, which was in close proximity to the person he was unintentionally following, just about two chairs away.
Then, it hit Nnicknack. Was he inadvertently being strange ensuing… Whoever this guy was?
He then immediately rationalized his behavior, brushing it off as a ‘No, just heading the same way.’
Then, the carts buckled and began to roll, strolling through the strobing lights of the cables. He thought if this was all a mistake, but it wasn’t like he was going to speak to anyone the whole night. Nnicknack stayed silent, but would occasionally glance at a few of the characters who were also accompanying the ride. They spoke, he didn’t, which is what he preferred. Always a better listener than a talker, that’s what his mentor Twobit would tell him.
Then his eyes moved towards the one who he was led by. He seemed to have his attention constantly drawn to his winners cup. When the bright lights on the walls would catch on his white and red helmet he could see just what features he had. Grayish skin, sunken yellow eyes, and deepened teeth that matched his eyes.
Knicknack squinted, then shrugged, adjusting his blue framed glasses with his mit.
Then, he noticed someone in a blue cap, beginning to speak to him from the opposite side of the tram. He watched, recognizing that it was the one and only Fix-it Felix Jr. The only reason he recognized him was because of a previous introduction when he invited him to one of his penthouse parties. They spoke about whatever, their conversation would occasionally be out of Knick’s earshot because of the squeaking wheels, but the gist of it was “Turbo” had won a race.
Turbo, huh?
Knicknack hadn’t heard of the guy until now, his own game was extremely new in this line of knowers. Then a creeping sense of feeling left out fell upon him. He curled his tail and looked away.
Finally, the coaster had come to a stop. Everyone began to hop off, Knicknack included. As he avoided getting stepped on by the taller folks getting off, he scurried in, making sure to be first to get inside Tapper's. The ambiance was beautiful, warm radiating lights and dark wooden islands.
He scampered to a chair way at the back end of the bar. He latched on and hopped up which made a cartoonish, bitcrushed boing once he sat. He immediately sank onto the table. He let out a great big sigh, spent from a hard day's work. The gentle melodies of the music caused his muscles to laze. He was about to drift off until a man with a mustache knocked on the table in front of him.
He sprang up, a gasp exiting him. “I’m up!” He yelped, jumpy. His eyes squinted and were drawn to whoever interrupted his beauty sleep. “You must be… Tapper?” He asked, half asleep.
“Yup. The one and only! What can I get’cha?” Tapper asked.
“Rootbeer. Grossly sweet.” Knicknack answered, not too keen on conversation.
Tapper nodded then split once someone else from a different table called him over.
Knicknack laid back down on the table. Then, the scooting of a chair made him begrudgingly pick his head up. With a swift glance he realized it was Turbo, sitting directly next to him! Knicknack gasped and the wings beside his head flared out. He didn’t expect this, not in a million years.
Turbo grinned, placing his trophy atop the island, but on the side away from Knicknack. “You surely love to stare. I bet you were ogling this trophy here, huh?” Turbo questioned.
So far, this was going awful. Knicknack felt so incredibly ashamed for spying. “Oh, Mod you caught that?!” He spoke horsely. “I… Guess. In a way- but I mean- I wasn’t like.. Trying. I haven’t seen you around before.” He replied anxiously, searching for words.
Turbo didn’t seem to enjoy the fact that Knicknack hadn’t known who he was. “Turbo, that’s my name. I think you’re new here.” He smiled grimly. “I already know you, though.”
Knicknack was puzzled. “‘Know?’ We haven’t spoken before.”
Turbo shrugged. “Word gets around. You’re that lily-livered bookworm that follows Mailbrick around right? Getting him out of trouble?” He snickered snarkily.
Knicknack wasn’t fond of getting called ‘lily-livered’ or whatever that meant. He gave a vicious glare to Turbo.
Turbo backed down instantaneously, still grinning. “Hey,” He punched his shoulder lightly. “just playing around.”
Knicknack continued his sour scowl, but his expression eased eventually. “Fine then.” He allowed himself to relax. “You seem to know my whole life story.” He replied begrudgingly.
“Well, no.” Turbo said. “I’ve heard the occasional story, don’t worry, nothing exciting.” Turbo’s words lisped, his expression was coy.
“Fun. Good to know I’m gossip worthy.” Knicknack mumbled.
“I wouldn’t call it gossip.” Turbo corrected. “Just info about your whole… Deal.”
Just then, Tapper walked over to their shared island and placed down a comically large mug of the syrupy drink for Knicknack.
“Thanks.” Knicknack told Tapper, not anticipating what he’d get but his expression was still stony.
Tapper nodded then turned to Turbo. “Your usual?”
“Yup!” Turbo replied cheerfully, waving him off.
As Tapper bounded away, Turbo turned to Knicknack. “So, I’ve seen you-”
“Ah! A fellow watcher then?” Knicknack cut him off, smirking with his eyes.
Turbo paused, seeming irritated for a split second before continuing. Knicknack immediately felt bad for being rude.
Turbo pushed down his original question, saving it for later until another thought popped into his whirring brain. “How do you…” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Drink?” Turbo asked, observing him.
Knicknack was more than happy to oblige to the question, glad they could move on from him interrupting. Obviously, he had no mouth, that was a no-brainer, so he wasn’t surprised when it was brought up.
“Like this.” Knicknack took his beverage by the handle and chugged a couple sips down, pressing the rim where a mouth would essentially be. It appeared invisible, going down the void that was his face until he had his fill. He placed the drink on the table and glanced at Turbo.
“Huh.” Turbo said, not knowing whether to be grossed out or intrigued. “Funny.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Knicknack wagged his tail. “Um, what’s your game about?” He asked suddenly after.
Turbo seemed a tad disgruntled again, but he covered it up, grinned, and began a huge spiel about how his game worked to an exhaustive degree, then moved the trophy towards Knicknack.
“I won that today, as usual.” He bragged. “The twins were no match for me! Did this spin around the curves and took home the gold. You know, I’m the fastest racer, everybody knows that.” He loomed closer to Knicknack. “Need for speed, that’s what I live by!”
“Hm. Well, I’ve only been plugged in for a week and a half, I don’t know you like everyone else does.” He hummed, mumbling. “To me, you’re a pretty blank slate, do you have any hobbies besides racing?” He tested the waters.
Turbo was surprised, the concept was alien to him. “What is there other than racing?” He rolled his eyes. ”It's the main point of my game.” He replied. “You don’t stick to your programming or what?”
Knicknack raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh, y’know just, it isn’t so bad to do some other stuff. I draw occasionally, y’know? I stick to my program during the daytime.”
“Mm.” Turbo hummed, mildly indifferent and now looking away.
Knicknack’s wings lowered, he adjusted his glasses. “Hey, I’ll tell you what,” He grabbed his mug and swallowed the rest down. “meet me at the entrance of my game tomorrow right as the arcade closes. I’ll show you how we have fun around my side of the tracks.”
“Yeah, and if I don’t show up?” Turbo asked, quirking a brow.
“Well, then I’ll have to get in the middle of Game Central and scream, ‘Turbo doesn’t wanna hang out with me! He’s scared!’ Who knows who will run off with that information.” He chuckled, finally teasing.
Turbo’s features cracked, then he let out a cackle. “Alright! Make your mark then!” He laughed, which caused Knicknack to hoot along with him. After the giggling died down, Turbo sighed and finally inquired, “Hey, wanna hear about the time I got wiped off the track but still won?” He asked, grinning.
“Go on then!” Knicknack egged on.
They traded stories of occasional things that would happen in their machines, they drank together, laughed, then eventually Knicknack was the first to make an exit once Tapper said they were being too rambunctious. Knicknack gave a wave, said his goodbyes, then left for the both of them to have a fun night again tomorrow.
That night, Knicknack finally arrived at his game. Mailbrick was the first to greet him once he hopped off the carts.
“Oi! Where have you been eh? Out all night on the town?” Mailbrick asked, his envelope head flapping like usual.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” Knicknack replied, climbing off the coaster. “Met this guy! Turbo! He’s hilarious!” He skipped, oddly and unusually chipper.
Mailbrick raised his eyebrows. “Wait a minute, ‘Turbo?’ that racing joker?” He asked, alert.
“Yeah! I met him at Tapper’s! We were chatting about our lives and all that, he’s a card!” He replied fondly.
Mailbrick furrowed his gaze, stopping Knicknack from skipping all over the grass. “Hey, I’m gonna be frank with ‘cha. Heard some nasty rumors of that guy screwin’ people over. Messin’ up their friendships, buggin’, all that.” He placed both hands on his hips. “Ya’ know I always gotta be straight up.”
“Oh…” Knicknack muttered, not knowing how to handle the information he was just given. “Um, but like, he’s a good guy, I even saw Fix-It talking to him!”
Mailbrick seemed concerned, but he straightened his posture. “All I’m askin’ is for you to be careful. Yeah?” Mailbrick asked. “Gotta look out for you, I know you're a sensitive artist.”
Knicknack was disappointed, that meant Mailbrick knew he was a doormat, but he did his best to look brave. “Yeah, I’ll do it! I’ll um… Put my foot down.”
“Bada-bing!” Mailbrick grinned, patting Knicknack on the shoulder. “Right, we better set up for the mornin’. Help me out, yeah?”
“Okay.” Knicknack replied.
The two hurried off, yet the lingering feeling of him needing to be vigilant would occasionally blip into his head as he worked. ‘What could it mean?’ He thought.