Chapter Text
❀ Abed ❀
Becoming Brad Bakshi wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, it was a result of a year of mental breakdowns where he could only stand to be Clone-Abed, quickly increasing in frequency and intensity. This was followed by several months of failed interventions and ending in a last-ditch plan: move to LA under a false identity and start a new life. No one but Abed seemed to think it would make a difference. But to everyone’s surprise, four years later Brad was still living and working in LA, allowing Abed to ever so slowly heal behind the mask.
There were too many reminders of Troy at Greendale for Clone-Abed to actually be Regular-Abed. When he first got to LA, he was only Abed 2.5% of the time. A year in, he was up to 46.3%. That was also coincidentally the year they started working on the Raven’s Banquet expansion, and Abed instantly fell in love. He may not have had any major creative impact, but to play even a small role in the creation of such a special story was enough. Ian was a great storyteller, as annoying as he was, and a complex character that was interesting to watch grow and develop.
That was around the time he made the decision to stay in LA. Originally, the plan had been for him to go home once he could manage to stay out of character—Clone-Abed or Brad—at least 60% of the time, but he’d grown to enjoy his double life and didn’t want to leave. His friends were resistant to his choice to stay at first, but with everyone going their own ways and many reassurances about his mental health, they eventually gave in. It wasn't even a lie, his mental health truly was the best it had been in years. And while he still couldn’t talk about Troy or even say or think his name most of the time, he’d gotten to a point where every so often he could tell his therapist about him, which was a remarkably big accomplishment.
Abed had actually been doing okay for the first few months after Troy left, when they were still communicating on a near daily basis and he’d been sure Troy would come back, but then the Childish Tycoon was taken hostage by pirates and fell off the map. That was the beginning of the end and the start of Abed’s first mental breakdown.
He got better for a while when news came through of Troy’s boat being freed, but all progress was undone when several months went by with zero contact between any of the study group and Troy. It broke him.
Years later, and there was still no word. No one knew if Troy was dead or if he’d just cut all contact. They’d searched, of course they had, but no one could find anything. Even Annie with all her FBI resources and connections couldn’t find a single clue. Troy was well and truly gone, and Abed couldn’t bear to even think of him. It was hard for him to heal from the unknown, somehow harder than if Troy had just died, at least then he could’ve grieved.
After four years, he was able to be Abed a solid 98% of the time when he wasn’t at work. And even then, there were moments where he wanted nothing more than to break character. Moments like when Ian decided to make a commercial for Mythic Quest, but ended up making it more about himself than the game. The people that wrote, directed, and filmed that disgrace of a commercial were morons. He could’ve done better running on two nights of no sleep and a skeleton crew. He was putting all his effort into restraining himself from saying his thoughts aloud, when David spoke up, “I'm sorry, I gotta stop. What is this?”
Ian stared at him challengingly. “It's a commercial for the game."
Poppy scoffed. “It's a commercial for you.”
“It's still going,” Abed interjected absently, more focused on how his skin had started to crawl uncomfortably than on the conversation. In just the past minute, something had changed. Something was different.
Ian shushed them and the shot changed, slowly circling a shirtless version of him standing on a roof.
“Oh, my God.” Poppy snorted, but Abed was barely paying attention anymore.
Over the past few days he’d started to feel something he thought he’d long since left behind, like he was back at Greendale and cameras were on him. But the intensity of that feeling had cranked up to nearly unbearable levels in just the last few moments. It felt like a pilot episode was starting.
Beside him, CW sounded awed as he said, “I think it’s brilliant.”
His breathing started to pick up. The pilot of this new show was definitely starting, he was sure of it. This was prime opening material, and he was surrounded by the main cast. That meant he was probably in the main cast. That was bad. That was very, very bad.
He tried slowing his breathing, but it didn’t seem to be helping stop the panic attack he was pretty sure was on its way. In different company, he’d be screaming by now. This whole situation was unacceptable. He’d finished his show. He’d done his time, and he still hadn’t finished healing from it (he might never). Characters in shows had to suffer for the sake of the plot and he was over it. He’d had four years of relative peace. Why now?
He had to think logically. If he tried to escape the story, that would only make him prime fodder for a more prominent role. He knew how these things went. His best bet was to make himself as insignificant as possible. Everyone else in this room was more interesting than Brad, so even though he may be in the main cast, his role could be small if he played his cards right, or at least smaller than it was at Greendale. He was safe, right?
Wrong. This was a disaster. He needed to leave now, before he broke character. He swallowed hard and stood abruptly, speed walking out of the room. He needed to get away. Immediately.
❀ David ❀
Brad Bakshi was a puzzle, and David liked solving puzzles. In every puzzle there was a story waiting for someone to stroll along and put all the pieces together, just so. And of all the many types of puzzles, people were by far the most interesting. He was self aware enough to know that he wasn't all that interesting and most of the time he took pride in that. If being boring meant he was overall a more happy person, then it was worth it. But a boring person leads a boring life, which wasn't very appealing. That was why he surrounded himself with complex people, and boy were they interesting.
The people he met and latched onto were the ones that added a spark to his life that he never could've succeeded without, but on the flip side they were also the most annoying assholes he'd ever met. Most importantly, what all these people had in common was that they were puzzles for him to solve, and the most interesting, mysterious, and assholish of the bunch was Brad, perhaps the greatest puzzle he’d ever met (not that anyone else seemed to pick up on it).
The first thing that caught his interest he noticed well before Brad became head of monetization. They didn’t work together, but he spent enough time among lower level employees to pick up on the fact that Brad ate a shitton of baked goods. While for most people, that kind of thing wouldn’t be even a blip on their radar, a lifetime of hunting down puzzles had given him an eye for the little details that didn't quite fit.
Another month of observation and a subtle offering of an ‘accidental’ extra cookie from his lunch order, that was quickly turned down, taught him that Brad would never accept a baked good from anyone. He also never ordered baked goods during business meals, only seeming willing to eat the ones that he brought from home, and to top it all off, Brad couldn’t bake; not that he hadn’t tried his hardest during a company team bonding workshop that doubled as a baking lesson. David planned that particular workshop in an effort to understand more about Brad, but much to his delight he only walked away with more questions.
The baking thing was only the tip of the iceberg, and it didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that Brad never once brought up his personal life. Not a single time. When he subtly poked other people in the office, no one could name anyone Brad so much as had a conversation with outside of work. And for someone as social as Brad, that kind of work-life separation should be nearly impossible.
Brad was exactly the type of puzzle he tried to surround himself with, so when the time came to pick a new head of monetization, he picked Brad.
Once they started working more closely together, it wasn't long until he caught on to the fact that Brad’s face would go blank when he seemed to think no one was looking, and most of the time no one but David was looking. At first he’d assumed it was simple zoning out, as many people were ought to do during some of his more extensive briefings, but then he would jump in to correct something without missing a beat. On top of that, Brad was scary smart. He seemed to be able to pick up on things long before most other people and sometimes knew exactly what someone was going to do before they'd decided to do it.
It took more time than he’d like to admit for him to realize that as he was slowly puzzling Brad out, the other man was doing the same to him. The look in Brad's eyes was the same look he saw in his own mirror each day. The question then became which one of them would figure the other out first, and David was determined to win. That was why when he saw Brad sprinting out of a room with no explanation, he was quick to follow.
It took him a good ten minutes to find Brad, who’d shut himself in a supply closet at the end of the hallway. He could only tell the other man was inside because the door was ever so slightly ajar and the sound of heavy breathing was slipping through the crack. He pushed open the door to find Brad curled into a ball in the farthest corner of the closet, hands covering his ears and breathing shallowly.
“Brad?”
Brad flinched violently and let out a moan, lifting his eyes just enough to catch a glance of him before tucking his head back against his chest and whispering, “Light.”
It took a beat for David to understand, but when he did he quickly shut the door. There was still enough light seeping beneath it to see, but it still seemed to help. He moved towards Brad, who seemed to sense the motion and pressed himself farther into the corner.
He stopped moving, he’d had enough panic attacks of his own to know that Brad's body language was sending out major ‘don’t touch me’ vibes. He lowered himself to the floor slowly and asked, “Do you need anything?”
Brad shuffled around for a moment and abruptly thrust out a hand with a small laminated card. Cautiously he took it, but before he had a chance to read it, a phone was skittering across the floor towards him and Brad was back to eerie stillness. He angled the card so that the light would make it legible.
DON’T WORRY!
I can't talk right now, because I suffer from severe panic attacks. I would prefer to not be touched unless I am hurting myself. Please get rid of any bright lights and loud noises if you can. If I give you my phone, please call one of my emergency contacts and explain what's happening.
Now understanding the phone, he turned it on and scrolled to the emergency contacts. There were four listed: Annie, Jeff, Britta, and Shirley. He called the first number and listened to it ring until it hit voicemail, “You’ve reached Annie! I’m away from the ph-”
He hung up and tried the second number, which was picked up after only two rings. A deep male voice came over the line, “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
He desperately wished this was the time or place he could interrogate this person about Brad, but unfortunately it wasn’t. Instead, he said, “I work with Brad and he's having a panic attack. He wanted me to call someone."
There was a clatter from the other side of the line. "Shit. Is he okay?"
"Yeah. We're alone in a janitor's closet."
"Good. Pass the phone to him."
"Got it.” He held out the phone to Brad, who snatched it out of his hand and pressed it tightly to his ear. The voice on the other side was indecipherable, but it seemed to be making a difference. The tension was slowly leaking out of Brad’s shoulders as the two of them sat in near silence.
He had no idea how much time had passed when Brad spoke, “Thanks, Jeff. I’m okay now. I have to go, but I’ll call you back later,” a pause, “I promise.” He lowered the phone and sighed.
Brad’s voice had been different from what it normally was, more stiff and to the point, but a panic attack of that scale can change everything. Cautiously he asked, “You need a ride home?”
Brad jumped and stared at him with wide eyes, “David? What are you doing here?”
“Uh… Do you not remember?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
“I came in and you gave me this and your phone.” He held up the card, which was quickly snatched out of his hand.
Brad cursed, before asking, “What did you hear?”
“Nothing really. I pretty much just sat here. It was boring.” He shrugged.
“Okay. Good.”
There was an awkward moment of silence, which he eventually broke by asking, “So… Do you need a ride? Or I can walk you to your car, make sure no one asks any questions?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He stood, smoothing out his pants. “Okay. I’ll just tell everyone you left early. I assume you're not going back to work?”
“No. I'm not. Are you going to tell them why?” Brad sounded uncomfortable in a way David had never heard before. It made his stomach turn.
He shook his head. “No, I won’t. I get it. It happens to me too sometimes. Actually, I was wondering where you got that card, I could've used something like that more than a few times by now.”
Brad tilted his head slightly, a tick he’d never seen before, and said, “My friend Annie made it for me. I’ll get you one.”
“That was surprisingly nice, coming from you,” he said, widening his eyes comically.
“I don’t have the energy to be mean right now. I’ll be better in the morning,” Brad said with the barest hint of a smile.
He rolled his eyes. “That implies your default is nice, which I’m pretty sure is the opposite of true.”
Brad stared at him for a moment before saying, “Yeah, you’ve got me pegged.”
“You know what, Brad? I’m actually pretty sure I don’t.” He pushed his way out of the closet, only catching a quick glance of Brad’s wide eyes before the door shut behind him.
❀ Abed ❀
Abed wasn’t sure what to think of David. He definitely knew more about him beyond the Brad mask than he let on, but not enough to have any idea whatsoever who Abed was. It was unclear if he would tell anyone about his panic attack, but based on his character archetype, he was inclined to think David wouldn’t. It was due to that belief, that the day after his big freakout he had the confidence to stroll into work as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
Throughout the morning, David kept throwing him odd looks, but luckily kept quiet. No one asked where he’d run off too the day before, which counted as another win. As terrifying as this new show was, he didn't want to ruin it by having to leave in the middle of the pilot episode.
Midway through the day, over an hour before the staff meeting was due to start, Poppy came tearing into his office yelling about a meeting, and by the time he got to the conference room she'd already loaded up a slideshow presentation and was looking impatient. The second he sat down, she started hurriedly speaking, “One new continent, over a thousand new playable items, all built on the most robust code base in the history of MMOs. I don't mean to toot my own horn here, but my team and I have built something remarkable, so… Raven's Banquet is ready to launch!”
“All right! Incredible,” Ian cheered.
“Thank you," Poppy said with a smile.
Ian nodded. “Absolutely stunning, Poppy. This expansion is going to blow them away.” His face turned contemplative, which was never a good sign. “But are we sure that we're finished?”
Poppy’s smile fell. “I think it's finished. We've been on it for two years. It's perfect.”
Ian shook his head, looking frustrated. “No, it's like we're almost there, we're almost perfect.” He pulled out a remote and clicked to a different slide. Abed could sympathize with that. It truly was the plight of a creative mind to know something isn’t perfect, but to not be able to put a finger on why.
“Where did you get that?” Poppy asked, pointing an accusatory finger at the remote.
“I have my own,” he said absently, still clicking through the slides. “Nobody remembers 'almost perfect', do they? It's like... Oh. This.” He reached a slide with a shovel. “Okay, now what's this, Pop?”
Poppy’s voice went dark, “That's a shovel. It's just a little MTX item I designed for myself. The whole game's your vision. I thought that the…”
Ian cut her off, “Right, it's just that something's off about it. Right? Like it's not entirely… cool.”
Poppy was getting angry now. “‘Cool’? ‘Cool’. No, it is cool though, because it provides an entirely new game mechanic: digging. The players can now literally change the landscape of the game.”
Abed cringed internally. Time to burst her bubble. He shook his head. “Pop, no one's gonna buy that.”
“If I may?” CW piped up from across the table, “Maybe the shovel needs a backstory. Who birthed this mysterious terra-spade? The gods themselves? Did they suckle at the bosom of Hera like babes at their mother's teat?”
“That's pretty good,” Ian said.
Abed smirked. “Yeah, teats I can sell. Let's do that.” Teats would be easy to sell, even though if it were up to him he would come up with a much more complex and less sexualised backstory, profits be damned. At least they were trying to make it interesting. Poppy was great, but she wasn’t the most creative person of the team.
“Let's not. Let's not do teats,” Poppy pleaded.
Ian frowned at her. “But, Pop-”
She cut him off, “But it's my thing. It's just my one thing.” Ian stood up and tried to walk away. “Don't leave. Meeting's not over.”
Did he seriously think leaving mid rant was going to work? Abed had been trying that for years and gotten nowhere.
David opened the door to the conference room. “Hey, guys? Are you having a staff meeting in here?”
Ian turned to face him. “No, actually, we just finished up. Who's this?”
“Oh, uh… This is Jo. She's my new assistant. Jo, this is the team.” David swept his arm around the room.
“Hi,” Jo said, staring intently at Ian.
“Hello.” Ian glanced at her, before making another bid to escape. “Uh, okay, well, if that's it…”
Before he could leave, Poppy said, “Ian wants to change my shovel and delay the launch.”
David’s eyes widened. “‘Delay the launch’? No, Ian, on time and on budget, remember?”
“Poppy, what's the name of the first game you ever fell in love with?” Ian said, ignoring David.
She looked confused. “Contra.”
“New girl, go.” Ian pointed at her.
“Grand Theft Auto.” Her eyes were locked adoringly on Ian, gaze concerningly intense.
Ian smiled. “Brutal. I love it."
The first game he fell in love with was- No. His brain needed to shut up. He was Brad, not Abed.
Ian turned and said, "David?"
He answered hesitantly, “I've always been partial to Ms. Pac-Man, but I don't see why that…”
Ian cut him off, “Everybody has that game that they fell in love with because they make an impact. Those games were somebody's legacy. This is my legacy.”
“Our legacy,” Poppy cut in.
Ian rolled his eyes. “Our legacy. Whatever.”
This was hitting concerningly close to home. He was proud of what he did here, but he wanted his legacy to be at Greendale, with the study group, with Troy. Abruptly he cut in, “It's not my legacy.”
Ian glanced at him, before staring intently at David, brushing past his remark entirely, “We have a couple more days until code lock, right? So just let me noodle. Just let me noodle on this one little thing. Just let me noodle. Let me noodle.”
Noodle was a good word, fun to say. Noodle. Noooodle. Noooooooooodle.
David looked close to tears. “You used the word again. You used the "noodle" word. When you use the noodle word, I start to get worried.”
“David, I promise you I will not ask you to push the expansion.” He pointed at Jo. “I like her. She's gonna do all right. Meeting adjourned?”
David sighed. “Meeting adjourned. Yeah.”
“Great.” Ian strolled out of the room without another word.
As he made his own way out of the room, his brain drifted to Jo. He’d been introduced to many new employees in his time at MQ, but Jo was standing out. Something instinctual was telling him she was important to the plot. To someone who hadn’t spent their entire life seeing things through the lens of TV, she would appear to be insignificant, but he could tell almost immediately that she would be crucial to the story.
He heard footsteps hurrying to catch up with him in the hallway. He turned to see Poppy, who immediately started speaking, “Brad. I need your help. I wanna leak the shovel to Polygon. And then when all the critics love it, which they will, they’ll write about it and then Ian won’t be able to change it.”
Hmmm. An underdog scheme. He smiled. “Very Machiavellian. I’m impressed.”
Poppy looked proud. “Well, you know, I'm always thinking three steps ahead.”
“What, "three steps ahead"? Hey, that's a lot of steps,” he said sarcastically.
The pilot episode’s storyline had potential, but what role should Brad play in it? The helpful but aloof ally or the stuck up money hoarder who listens to the boss no matter what?
Poppy didn’t seem to pick up on his sarcasm—that was coming from him of all people---and moved closer to him, “Yeah, I'll go you one step…”
“Don't get any closer,” he said sharply. He stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. He may be playing a character, but that didn’t mean he suddenly liked to be touched (by most people). Luckily touching wasn't something he had to push through for this character since Brad also didn't like touch, it was the little things.
“Sorry.” She moved away. “I'm gonna tweak the haptic feedback so that when you hit the…”
He cut her off, “I don't really care about any of that. All right, I'm in on your plot, okay? But if you want people to like your shovel, forget the critics. There's only one person you need to appeal to.” Brad liked plots and schemes, so it made the most sense for him to manipulate Poppy. He wouldn’t actually hurt her, Abed had morals after all, and he wasn’t really Brad.
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Not…” she trailed off, voice filled with dread.
He smirked. “Mm-hmm.”
“Pootie Shoe?”
“Pootie Shoe." He nodded.
She sighed dramatically, before walking away. He could hear her let out a muttered curse as she went, “Damnit.”
Abed made his way back to his office and collapsed at his desk. He’d need to start brainstorming character arcs for Brad. He’d created the character to be pretty one dimensional, but if they were in a show there would need to be character development eventually. There were two main ways he could see it going. Brad could either slowly nurture the little seed of kindness deep within him while still remaining outwardly an asshole or he could go full antagonist. His best bet for now was to go with the flow and see which one Brad leaned into most naturally.
A few days later, Abed knocked on Poppy’s door. “Poppy. Pop-Tarts.”
“What the hell, Brad?” Poppy said angrily, spinning in her chair to face him. “Pootie hates the shovel.”
It was time for him to inject some conflict to build the story’s tension. “Yeah, I saw that. Don't worry, we got something that's gonna get him back.”
From behind him, CW said, “If I may?” He nodded and the older man pushed past him into the room. “Picture it. The hero must vanquish his enemy, but the weapons of the old gods are insufficient. So he must pray upon the altar of…”
He cut in, “Jesus, skip the story.”
CW glared at him. “The story is everything, you Neanderthal. Now, if you please. The hero must pray upon the altar of Ares to send him…” He did a dramatic spin before revealing a large board with a picture of a naked green woman covered in vines and holding a golden shovel.
Abed had to give the old man props on the dramatic flair, but his content was truly garbage. He couldn’t resist the urge to cut in and take over the storytelling, “‘Ian's Shovel’. The best new weapon in the game. The wood nymph is the loot crate that gets them to buy it.”
CW cut back in, “What happens when this shovel is awarded? It must leave the bosom of this fair maiden. Then what might the hero gaze upon?” Abed stifled a groan, reminding himself that Brad wasn’t supposed to be the creative mind of this show.
Poppy made a face. “I am so utterly and completely confused.”
“Breasts,” CW said confidently.
Poppy rolled her eyes. “No. That part's clear. I don't understand what you want me to do with this.”
Abed leaned forward and asked, “Will you help us patch it?”
“No. 'Cause I don't want to sell Ian's Shovel. I want to sell my shovel,” she said, sounding frustrated.
Time for Brad to be an asshole. “But your shovel sucks. I think it does. I actually don't know the difference. But Ian didn't like it, and he seems to have a pretty good grip on what dorks like.”
“You knew Pootie wouldn't like it.” She sounded shocked. One would think after years of working with Brad she’d have a grasp on the kind of character he was by now.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Yeah, of course I did. But you knew that too, right? You're always three steps ahead.”
“And you only did this to get me to code your sexy loot crate,” she said.
“Yeah. Are you still piecing this together?”
Her face twisted in anger. “Brad, you are such an asshole.”
“And now you're caught up,” he said, smirking.
Poppy gave him one last glare before storming out. From beside him, CW’s tone was confused, “I thought everyone knew.”
Abed frowned, he’d honestly thought it was obvious. “Yeah. I did too.”
Later that same day, the head of HR called a meeting. She sat them all in a vague circle and started speaking, “Okay. Thank you for coming. I have called an emergency meeting because I have noticed a lot of abuse in this office.”
He could see David's face pale from across the room. “Oh, no. Has someone been harassed?”
Carol looked frenzied. “Yeah, David. Me. You are all abusing the office of Human Resources.”
Ian interrupted, “Carol, do we have to do this right now? We are in the middle of a shovel crisis.”
It was probably his turn to stir the pot, so he said, “Actually, Carol, I think I have a fix for Ian. We're gonna take your shovel and we're gonna put it into a sexy new loot crate. Poppy's already on board.”
Poppy waved her hands frantically. “No, no. Carol, I am not coding his whore.”
Carol was trying to grasp at any semblance of order she could, “Guys, I called this meeting…”
Brad wouldn't let that fly, so Abed cut her off, “Carol, she's not a whore. She's a nubile, young wood nympho with a really complex backstory. C.W.?”
CW raised a finger. “If I may…”
The pitch of David's voice was rising, “No, you may not. Carol, my apologies.”
Carol looked defeated. “Sure.”
David started trying to reassure her, “They get a little unwieldy. You have to rein them in.”
One of the testers, Rachel, cut in, “I have an idea.”
Ian looked over at the pair, exasperation written all over his face. “I'm sorry. Carol, why are the testers here?”
“Because we have ideas too. Great ideas, actually. Well, Dana has all the good ideas, to be honest,” Rachel answered before Carol had a chance.
The other tester, Dana, was trying to reign in Rachel to no avail. “No. No, I don't. No.”
Ian sighed. “Great. The brand-new employees have ideas on how to improve our billion-dollar enterprise. Jo, make sure you get all this down. Lay 'em on us.”
Rachel didn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm—again, this was coming from him of all people—and said, “See? He wants to hear.”
Dana's soul appeared to be leaving her body in her embarrassment. “I don't wanna…”
Jo muttered under her breath as she loudly typed, “'Testers overstepped their bounds'.”
“I do have an idea. The whore thing is a little weird, I think,” Rachel said.
CW scoffed. “Preposterous. I will not sit here and take notes from this jumped-up popinjay. I am the head writer.”
Rachel frowned at him. “You're like 80, man.”
Ian cut in, “Hey, hey. Have some respect, tester. The man won a Nebula Award.”
Abed chimed in, “That was 1973. You met him at a state fair where he was selling rotisserie chickens.”
CW shot him a glare before saying, “Also award-winning.”
“The man's a dual threat.” Ian nodded agreeably.
Carol was barely trying anymore when she said, “Guys, if we could, just for one second…”
Rachel cut her off, “Carol, I'm sorry. This guy sleeps in the office.”
Ian jumped in. “Only when he drinks too much, Carol.”
“Which is every day. I'm pretty sure he lives here," Rachel argued.
Carol looked concerned. “That's not true, is it?”
It was obvious CW was scrambling for an answer that wouldn't get him in trouble. “Carol, to understand my present, you must also understand my past. Albania, 1939…”
“No! No more fucking backstory!" Poppy screamed suddenly. The room went silent. "I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge. We should code lock, let QA do final verification, and then just release the shovel as is.”
Ian shook his head. “David, the shovel is not ready as is, okay? I just need a little bit more time…”
Poppy glared at him, before looking imploringly at David. “Expansion goes live on Monday. It's Friday at 5:00 p.m. He's gonna ask you to push it.”
David shook his head. “No, he's not. He actually promised me he wasn't gonna ask me to push the expansion.”
Ian didn't look remotely sorry as he said, “David, I'm going to ask you to push the expansion.”
David's face went slack. “What? No. No, no. No, you said there was enough time. You said we had this. You promised me you wouldn't push it.”
"There isn't. We don't. And I lied,” Ian said with a shrug.
“You're fucking me.”
Ian nodded. “Yes.”
“You're fucking me.”
Ian shrugged. “But I'm not enjoying it. It's for the game.”
Poppy smirked. “I knew this was gonna happen.”
“It doesn't make me feel better,” David said, voice faint.
Poppy turned an accusing look on Ian. “You are a dick.”
Suddenly Jo turned in her seat and screamed, “You're a dick!”
Poppy jumped back slightly and David said, “Oh, my…”
Ian held up a placating hand. “Jo, please. Thank you. I don't need your help. David, Poppy is being a dick, okay? The expansion is not ready. It needs to be pushed.”
Poppy scoffed. “It does not need to be pushed.”
“Just a little bit, then I got it.”
“No. David, do not push it.”
“Just a little bit.”
“Not a little bit, not at all.”
“Just a little bit.”
“Do not push it.”
“Push it. Push it. Push the expansion.”
“Do not push it.”
The room went silent. All this back and forth was eerily reminiscent of the conversations that took place in Greendale’s study room no.4.
After a few beats, Carol said, “David, if you don't make a goddamn decision…”
"Okay, I choose Mom! Poppy. Shit, "I choose Poppy" is what I meant.”
“Yes!” Poppy exclaimed.
David turned to Ian. “Ian, I know you're the visionary, but I am the executive producer, and I'm gonna make an executive decision. The code is locked. Everybody, go home!”
Ian threw his hands up. “Fine! You know what? You wanna ruin the game? Don't trust me. What do I know about the game? I don't know anything about the game. I'm only the creator.” Ian stormed out, shoving things off desks as he went.
Jo typed loudly while under her breath saying, “'Ian exudes masculinity'.”
Poppy turned away from where she'd been watching Ian's tantrum. “You made the right decision, David. You did a good thing.”
David smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom. Poppy,” he quickly corrected. “Meeting adjourned.”
Abed let out a, “Whoo!” And stood, strolling out of the room. Who knew how this would play out. All he knew was that he'd done his part.
The room was celebrating as Pootie rated the expansion, ‘Four B-Holes’. Abed privately thought that sounded like something someone from Greendale would come up with, but it was still a satisfying win.
He made his way over to Ian and Poppy and said, “Hey, expansion's a hit. Reddit, Steam, Kotaku, all positive, and we're selling thousands of shovels every hour. Biggest item in the game. So congrats to you. Or to Ian. Whichever of you won. I can't keep track anymore, and I don't really care.”
While Brad may not have cared, Abed did, and he was seriously hoping she would tell him, despite the nonchalance.
Poppy smiled. “It's both of us. Both of us won.”
He dully replied, “Great," but bit back a smile. So, it was a cathartic ending. That was truly the best outcome he could've hoped for. He watched as, behind Poppy's back, Ian inched away.
Poppy turned to where Ian had been standing moments ago and groaned. “Where is he?” He pointed to the balcony and she rolled her eyes.
As they all witnessed Ian deliver what he could only call a 'subpar Winger speech', he couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles.
So it begins again.