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In the corner of his vision, Chosen could see the glimpse of a camera flash and the noise of a camera shuttle. His pupils wandered to the direction of the flash, though he didn’t turn his head. The camera seemed to notice his gaze and… ran away, crawling through a vent and into the darkness within it.
It had been watching over him for the past few weeks now. Chosen had pretended not to notice it most of the time, but his curiosity had sometimes taken over his senses and he found himself unconsciously staring at it. This always caused the camera to freak out and run away, which it did just now.
…That was weird, though, because the memory scanner was literally opaque from the outside, so how could the camera even see his eyes when he moved them? Chosen didn’t think much about it.
Could Chosen really blame himself for his curiosity, though? After all, being all alone in a white box without any sort of communication while having yourself strapped to a chair would definitely make anyone go insane without weeks. Chosen’s mentality was surprisingly strong to withstand all these days stretching into weeks while wondering about the possibilities of what would happen to him. Not a single day had passed without feeling the phantom pain of victim’s whip against his skin.
Despite that, he stayed strong. He had to. Chosen knew Second and the colour gang were watching him, although he didn’t see them right now since the box was opaque from the inside, and he was their ‘role model’ for them.
He mostly didn’t want to make them worry about him, though. Chosen didn’t want to imagine losing it in this damn place, not in front of Second and his friends.
But of course, he couldn’t really hide just how insane he was going, because every so now and often he would involuntarily twitch in a very certain way, and his face would scrunch up for just a moment (though the other sticks outside couldn’t see his face properly anyways, since he was wearing the memory scanner). Chosen had a habit of twitching when he was scared, angry, or going insane. Hell, he wasn’t sure if it was normal, but it wasn’t that much of a big deal.
Just as Chosen was drowning in the depths of his thoughts, he picked up footsteps from the entrance of the box, slowly approaching. Chosen instinctively perked up, his vision going slightly fuzzy as he tried to focus on where exactly the entrance was. Looking through the memory scanner sucked, jeez.
Chosen didn’t know whether to feel relief from having any interaction with the outside world at all, or to cower in overwhelming fear of victim potentially appearing with a lasso in hand. He closed his eyes for a brief second, then the stick figure walked in.
Chosen opened his eyes again slowly, just to feel a heavy stick bash against his head. His vision went blurry as he hit his temple against the floor of the box. He groaned in pain, before looking up to see a familiar stick figure with shades towering above him.
Wait, towering.
Agent. What the hell did this bastard want?
Agent dragged Chosen’s chair back up as he crouched down to look at him at eye level. Chosen’s head slightly raised up, silently signalling he was awake.
“I hope that hit woke you up, because I’ve got something to tell you.”
I wasn’t even FUCKING ASLEEP, Chosen protested in his mind. However, the words weren’t muttered out loud. He was too mentally exhausted from the psychological torture of waiting in a box for weeks in anticipation of another beating. And he was correct, because his next beating would be right now.
Agent, as if reading Chosen’s mind, punched his forehead while grabbing the back of his chair, making his chair tilt slightly before putting it back on its four legs.
“That one was for extra measure,” Agent muttered. He looked outside—or at least, at the blank white wall—to the workers outside who were managing the box’s panel. He then looked back at Chosen. “I’ll make this short (like you). I’ve been given orders to kill you and bash your skull. Boss has figured everything else out; that orange stick figure is important, but not you. You don’t matter in this mission anymore, and he figured you should’ve just died, just like the others who died in Newgrounds. You’re not worth his time.”
Chosen tensed at that. That was a lot for him to process for a moment. No, they were NOT going to hurt Second. Not the kid who had practically saved his life back then in the Showdown with Dark.
Chosen looked at the vent where he’d last seen the camera move, and he swore he could see a red dot in the lens, almost as if it was recording, watching what would happen. It didn’t move, it only watched. He clenched his fingers into a fist, then dropped them. After all, what was there for him to do? He was helpless in this situation.
Utterly helpless, weak and fragile.
“You can kill me,” Chosen said eventually with a heavy heart. “Just don’t… hurt the kid. Or any of his friends.”
“I can’t promise you anything,” Agent replied with no emotion in his tone, “boss gives out the orders, I execute them.”
Chosen’s fist clenched again, before he raised it to land a feeble punch on him. Agent didn’t even flinch, he watched as Chosen sank back into his chair.
“Though, I can promise to make it quick. Just like how you did to Mitsi. It’s not like you have a choice to live, anyways.”
Chosen wanted to argue back, he wanted to channel his anger into a fireball and throw it at Agent, to engulf him in flames. But he couldn’t. He didn’t even know who the hell Mitsi was, because he wasn’t the one who did the killing. Dark was behind everything, and he was definitely the reason why Chosen, Second and the colour gang were stuck in this mess.
In the vent, the camera’s legs took a step forward, hesitating whether or not to intervene, but then it retreated its leg, choosing to watch the scene unfold.
“Any last words?” Agent selected Chosen with the selection box tool. The coworkers at the panel right-clicked the box with the built-in cursor, hovering over the ‘delete’ button.
“Yeah, give me a moment,” Chosen muttered, before looking to his right, where Second and the colour gang would be, he assumed. He looked at the plain white wall with a sorrowful gaze, the most emotion he’d shown within the past few weeks, the most vulnerability.
The look of giving up.
“Red, Yellow, Green, Blue, and last of all, Second. I’m sorry.”
Chosen swore he could’ve heard yelling from behind the wall. Someone was banging their hand against the metal cell walls. He could faintly make out the fact Second was calling his name out loud.
“I’m sorry. I wish you all the best of luck, and thank you for everything you’ve done. I wish I could’ve done more to repay your favour, Second. I will remember all of you, even after I die.”
“...I hope,” Chosen added.
He began to feel tears of anger pricking the corners of his eyes, but then he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He wasn’t sure whether he was angry at himself or not, but then he remembered, suddenly raising his voice.
“Damn you, Rocket Corp, and last of all, fuck you, Dark. I hope you rot, wherever you are right now. You’re the cause behind all of this,” Chosen finished his sentence, finally turning his head for the first time to look at the camera in the vent. Some workers turned their heads to see who Chosen was speaking to, but the camera had specifically been positioned to be only seen at a certain angle from where Chosen was sitting.
Chosen knew, just behind the camera, that it was Dark. Or at least, he was just very sure of it. Rocket Corp wouldn’t be this discreet about hiding a camera, and the only other person who wanted him dead would be Dark.
Agent looked back at the worker on the panel. “Delete him.”
Chosen closed his eyes as the worker pressed the delete button, feeling himself slowly corrode away from existence, until there was nothing left. The memory scanner—which used to be on his head—dropped onto the floor with a loud clank.
At the back of Chosen’s mind just before he died, he could hear Second’s faint voice. A gentle, wavering voice of defeat. The sort of voice you’d hear before the person would break down into tears.
“I’ll… remember you too, Chosen.”
He didn’t get to see the sticks’ full reactions to him being deleted for existence, but that really didn’t matter to him anymore, because he was dead.
The camera in the vent watched as Chosen’s body disintegrated, then slowly retreated from the area, crawling into the vent again with a slower pace. That was the last time it’d visit Rocket Corp, as its mission was complete. The Chosen One was destroyed.