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No one knew exactly how it all went down, but everyone in TV World heard the fallout.
“HOW. DARE. YOU.”
*Crash!*
“GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!!!!! SCRAM YOU LITTLE RATS, YOU'RE ALL FIRED!”
Pippins, zappers, and shadowguys dived out of the way as three blurs ran through the studio; their boss hot on their tails.
“OPEN THE DOORS, RUBBER BRAIN!” The smallest (and greenest) of the trio screeched at the Zapper by the outside gate, causing him to scramble with the code. The group flew past, off into the unknown as Tenna came to a halt outside the doorway, kicking up dust at the speed of his stop.
“-AND STAY OUT!” Tenna yelled after them, shaking a fist, fangs on full display. He huffed for a moment before turning to the zapper.
“...Mi- Make sure they don’t get back in. And change that door code!” He hissed, barely audible to the zapper, turning to stalk off before the guard could respond.
The TV stomped back through the path he’d carved while chasing down the now ex-employees, until his looming shadow fell upon the MIKE room. With a single swipe of his claws, he scratched the name clean off, leaving three deep gouges behind.
Only then does he turn and retreat into his office; his door swinging closed with surprising gentleness.
None of the employees had any idea what had just occurred, but they all knew one thing: Mike, the man who kept this rickety old studio up & running, was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.
-
The next few weeks were utter chaos.
No one knew what the schedule was, where to be, what to do.
The pippins were placing bets for how long Tenna’s glooby episode would last, the Shadowguys were taking the opportunity to host a few concerts, and the Zappers were running themselves ragged trying to keep them all out of trouble. None of them had a clue what they all should be doing, just that they’d get away with more than usual as long as they steered clear of one specific office.
The Weathers eventually had enough and took over temporarily, directing the staff and setting up reruns. They had practice after… last time.
Occasionally, the zapper that stood guard at the studio doors would hear a knock from outside.
It always went unanswered.
-
Time passed, and the sounds from Tenna's office turned from crashes and shrieks to quiet shuffling of furniture & papers. The sounds outside the studio doors quieted as well, knocking softening and fading until it disappeared completely.
Finally, Tenna emerged.
The man was a wreck. His tie was undone, his jacket was wrinkled, and there was a drag to his step that showed a distinct lack of sleep.
Head hung low, he shuffled through the studio as employees looked on worriedly, finally stopping at Ramb's bar.
Ramb, who had remained unaffected despite all the chaos, glanced at him for a moment before sliding Tenna a drink.
Tenna took it, sipping at it gloobily, and just sat for a while in silence while the plugboy patiently stood by, cleaning a glass.
“...Did you know?” Tenna was facing away from the bartender, but it was obvious who the question was for.
“What was that, luv?” Ramb hummed, not looking up from his glass.
“Did. You. Know.” Tenna bit out, grip tightening on the drink in his hand. “About them.” he clarified after a moment.
“Ah. Yes, I did. The lads did their best to hide it, but even the most observant of the bunch tended ta forget I wasn’t part o’ the scenery.” Ramb shrugged “Hardly paid it much mind, none o’ my beeswax an’ all that.”
“...They were laughing at me, weren’t they?” Tenna shrunk a half inch, still not looking up from his glass.
But the plugboy shook his head, “oh no, not a bit. Those three took things quite seriously, more so than any one could rightly expect. I certainly wouldn’t have put in half that amount of effort if I was in the same position.”
“But why?” Tenna’s audio took on a slight whine. “Was it the money? The power? …The free Deluxe Dinners?”
Ramb dismissed it all with a wave of the rag in his hand.
“Nah, none o’ them were clever enough for all that.” He replied, a smirk edging onto his face. “Honest, they just seemed to like doin’ it.”
The TV host froze.
“...really?”
“Far as I could tell.” Ramb shrugged, busying himself with putting the now-sparkling glass away.
“Tha’ cat bloke was always in a hurry to start ‘is shift and tryin’ to get your attention, the zapper hated their costume but put it on anyway for a bit o’ extra time with you, and the green one? Worst o’ the lot. Oh, he’d bitch an’ moan ‘bout all the work he’d done, but if either o’ the others tried to help ‘im out he’d pitch a fit. They ‘ad their own reasons, I’d imagine, but it sure seemed to me like they were mainly doin’ it jus’ fer the love of it. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”
Tenna sat there silently for a moment, taking all of this in.
By now everyone had started gathering at the edges of the green room, peaking through the door ways but not daring to go inside.
This meant everyone saw Tenna turn to the bartender, giving him his full attention.
“Ramb. Do you know what this means?”
Everyone also saw when the TV host shot up out of his seat, doubling in size, a huge grin spreading across his screen as he threw his hands up.
“I HAVE FANS!!!!”
Confetti fell from the ceiling as celebratory music sounded out.
“WELL THAT’S AMAZING! FANTASTIC! STUPENDOUSLY SENSATIONAL! IF I’D KNOWN I WOULD’VE GIVEN THEM ALL A RAISE!”
He turns to The Audience, away from Ramb or any of the doors, miming a whisper:
(I might not have needed to, though, with that double pay!)
The laugh track plays.
Tenna spins to point at the Zapper, still standing guard at the studio doors.
“YOU! Unlock that door! I have some employees to-” He pauses, searching for the right word “...compensate.”
“Yous got it, boss” The Zapper snapped a sloppy salute, punching in the code, before the full sentiment of his boss’ words registered. “-but uh. Boss, I tink der’s somethin’ yous should know, ‘fore goin’ outs there…”
Unfortunately for the remote, the TV was already striding past, paying him no mind.
“Ooooh Miiiikes~!” Tenna called into the snowy void through cupped hands, turning every which way trying to spot the trio, “It’s okay! You can come back insi-!”
His voice cut off sharply, lagging behind as his bright white light illuminated the three darkners.
The mikes were curled in on each other. The biggest had their arms wrapped around the other two, as if shielding them from the elements, with their tail coiled mid-bounce.
The shadowguy had a grimace painted on his face, though it was barely visible from the way he had his head buried against the smallest. One of his arms was wrapped around the smallest, while the other was reaching back to the zapper.
And the little one, the one that Tenna knew had been a bright-green pippins not even a month ago, still had one hand raised mid-knock. Was still waiting to be let in.
(but nobody came)
Tenna stood towering over the self-made memorial, acting as its spotlight, for some time.
he did this
HE DID THIS
HE DID THIS
NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN
Finally, when some of the Zappers and pippins were in the middle of a heated debate on who to send out after him, the CRT began to move.
He slowly- carefully- scooped the statue up into his arms, cradling it as he had done with each of the mikes so many times, and carried it into the studio.
With steady, measured steps, he passed by every worried look, every pippins peering out from behind a door, every shadow guy who made a cut off note of surprise, every zapper who bounced out of his way as quickly as possible.
He passed Ramb, who just gave him a sad, knowing look.
He passed Shuttah, who glanced away.
He passed Elnina, who tried to reach out to him, before Lanino pulled her back, shaking his head.
At long last, he arrived right back where everything started: the MIKE room.
Untouched since The Reveal.
He went inside with hardly a pause, the door swinging closed behind him with a firm click.
No one saw him again for the rest of the night.
No one knew what he did, what he might have said.
(The only people who would’ve asked were already in there with him.)
So no one knew what conclusion the Lord of Screens came to that night.
They only knew that, by the next morning, Mike had officially been declared “on vacation” by higher ups, and that their regularly scheduled programming was to air as normal.
Just another thing swept under the rug in the lovely little studio they called Home.