Chapter Text
It was a weird feeling, Andre realized, what he felt as he slipped from Assimilation’s hold and finally, finally, managed to jump through the portal.
He had barely looked back, glancing between the portal and Assimilation for only a few seconds before he started sprinting. Chat urged him on, roaring in his ears: a chorus of congratulations from xx_E-G-O_xx and feargey6774, an offhand comment about the run from SIDIsquish, a snide remark from SOUPBEGONE31 that he could’ve been faster.
Andre didn’t have it in him to disagree.
He was floating; he felt elated, but something in the back of his mind screamed at him. A grotesque, churning thing that coiled around the euphoria he felt at the speedrun’s completion. It made him want to turn back, to blink and fall right back into Assimilation’s grasp.
There was something he had forgotten, another reason why he and Assimilation needed to make it to the End that had nothing to do with getting a personal best.
Andre couldn’t think clearly. What was it?
When that wretched and abnormal dragon went down, Andre moved without thinking. He wasn’t going to let anything stop him. He couldn’t waste any more time on this run. Something told him he couldn’t waste any more time on this run.
In those brief moments between worlds, it came to Andre— a cold and creeping realization.
They were supposed to kill the Admins. They were supposed to escape together.
And he had just damned them both.
Andre felt the world shift around him and his feet touch solid ground. His stomach sank.
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“Andre,” Assimilation snarled.
Of course they were here.
“You bastard.”
Why wouldn’t they be?
The adrenaline that had rushed through his veins just minutes ago was waning quickly, and something hollow was taking root in its place. Andre tried to swallow in an attempt to suppress it.
It churned in his stomach instead.
Before him, Assimilation’s eye narrowed. “It is humiliating to bring you this far only to have you decide you have better things to do,” they spat.
Andre wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, to look anywhere but the entity before him. He knew it was humiliating. But he had done it, he had completed the run— in record time too! Shouldn’t that have been enough?
“I asked you for ONE thing, for your RESPECT, ANDRE.”
They heaved like they were catching their breath. A mimicry of it, perhaps. Andre didn’t think they actually needed to breathe. They continued, “You could have done whatever you wanted there, Andre.”
Assimilation’s voice sounded strained.
Suddenly, they lurched forward, taking Andre by surprise. Assimilation gripped his shoulders with unnatural hands, fingers digging painfully into the fabric of his shirt. Their eye was wide, and they were all too close. It was everything Andre could see, they were everything he could hear. Even chat had gone still: silent, for once.
“Speak! Say something!” Assimilation screamed. “Explain yourself you COWARD!”
Andre opened his mouth to answer, to explain to Assimilation that he had to complete the speedrun, that he didn't know what came over him, that he was sorry, but he couldn’t. His tongue felt heavy, his jaw was slack but utterly unresponsive to his voice.
Why couldn’t he speak?
Why couldn’t he move?
He went to clench his hands in frustration. Nothing happened. Assimilation stood inches from him, and Andre desperately willed his fists to do something; to push them away or to pull them closer, he couldn’t decide.
Andre felt that hollow feeling growing, eating away at all he was and leaving him without meaning. He didn't feel real.
He felt sick.
“ANDRE!”
He stared at Assimilation, at the thing he could now call his friend. Could he call them that? He hoped so. He liked them, as bizarre and horrifying as they were.
“Why did you come this way?” Assimilation demanded, their voice breaking slightly.
“Why didn’t you stop?”
And then suddenly, something clicked. As if the thing carving him out had hitched somewhere vital and unknowingly tugged it free. Andre felt his fingers twitch and inhaled sharply. Why didn’t he stop? Assimilation had been more than adamant about not letting him leave the End. The entity had even begged Andre to just listen to them, to please stop.
They had a plan, a promise, even, and Andre had gone and broken it. The worst part, he thought, he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.
His hands were shaking, whether from nerves or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. Andre met Assimilation’s gaze, which had twisted in confusion at his abrupt movement. Andre blinked.
“I don’t know,” he said softly.
They stared, more in surprise than anger. “What?”
And so, like a prayer, Andre repeated it:
“I don’t know.”
He truly didn't.
Assimilation took a step back, and the dark that surrounded Andre dissipated. The tension that had grown thick around them followed suit.
It was a moment before Assimilation spoke again, the rage that had nearly consumed them receding. They seemed to consider their next words, raising a hand before letting it fall back down to their side.
“How do you not know, Andre? We had a plan, we were going to kill the–” They cut themselves off unexpectedly, eye widening before jerking their head around in a panic.
“Andre,” Assimilation said frantically, “the Admins. They knew we were escaping. They could be here at any minute, Andre.” Their pupil had shrunk, flitting between Andre and the forest around them.
“We need to get out of here, Andre. They probably think you deactivated after the run, right? That’s…” they paused, realizing something.
“That’s what happened just now, with you, didn’t it, Andre?”
Andre nodded, before scrunching his brows in confusion. What in the world did they mean by that?
“Then they will know exactly where we are, and they will hunt us down. We have to go, Andre,” Assimilation continued. “A new world, Andre, somewhere else. It will give us some time to come up with a new plan, to retaliate, it doesn’t matter. We just need to move.”
And so, Andre did what he did best: he moved. He grabbed Assimilation’s arm, a strange feeling creeping up his own as he did, closed his eyes, and launched another start.
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They came to in a forest not dissimilar to the one they had just left, the only major difference being the sudden cold. The ground was dry and frozen under their feet, and a gentle wind carried bits of snow through the trees.
It was still night, Assimilation noticed, which meant this wasn’t a newly generated world. Strange, they thought, but good. Harder to track us here.
In the distance, snow-covered mountains stood starkly against the clear night sky. A soft light glowed from atop the highest peak— a player’s base, most likely. Assimilation could hear something faintly off that way, quick chattering pops that bounced off the icy cliffside. They flexed their fingers nervously.
Best to leave whoever that was alone.
Andre didn’t appear to hear the noise, moving away from their side to gather some wood. Assimilation watched him dash over to a nearby tree, quickly fashioning a crafting table, then more wooden planks, then some sticks. He was a bundle of flighty movement.
It disturbed Assimilation.
“What are you doing, Andre?” Their voice broke the quiet. Assimilation hadn’t been loud— quite the opposite in fact, it was the softest they had spoken in a while. And yet, Andre jumped, startled.
Andre looked down at his hands, which were gripping the edge of the crafting table. His nails were digging hard into the wood, leaving tiny marks in the grain.
What was he doing? In the back of his mind, something told him he needed materials, to get going, to move. A new world always meant a new run.
But this wasn’t a new speedrun attempt; this time was different.
Andre let his grip slacken.
”It’s cold,” he blurted out. “And we need supplies,” nodding to the sticks by his feet. It was a half-truth, he supposed. He turned to face Assimilation fully, trying to regain his composure.
“That is… true, Andre,” Assimilation started. They weren’t buying it. “But we do not need to go anywhere. Not right now, at least.” They cast an uneasy glance back at the mountains.
“The Admins will not know about this world so soon. They will not even be notified that a new world has been created.”
Assimilation could see Andre staring at them, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. They thought it odd, that glow, but couldn’t bring themselves to mind. It was nice. It was pretty.
“It will take much longer for them to hunt us down again, if they do. We are safe, for now, Andre.”
Those blue eyes looked away. Andre didn't say anything, and for a brief moment, Assimilation almost believed something had happened to him again until a question cut through the silence.
“...What did you mean back there, when you said I must’ve ‘deactivated’ the after run?” Andre asked, genuine confusion lacing his voice.
Assimilation hesitated before speaking.
“There were… notebooks I found when we first were transported to the facility, Andre,” they said. “Personal notes about you, about me, about bugs during your… uh, speedruns… from the Admins,” they stammered.
”Yeah, but why phrase it like that?” Andre scoffed. “I wasn’t in my right mind, sure. Zoned out, dissociated, whatever. It happens sometimes after I complete a run,” he waved his hands dismissively, completely leaving out the part that this time, it had been the worst it had ever been.
“But deactivate? That makes me sound weird. Like it’s a program they're running or something.”
Assimilation stared. “Andre…”
“What?”
“You… you saw the facility, that machine. We even used it, Andre! You saw what the Admins were doing,” Assimilation spluttered.
Andre shook his head. He didn’t like where this was going.
“You cannot ignore that. Andre.”
He scowled. He didn’t want Assimilation to be right.
“Nope,” Andre said. ”Mm-mm,” he shook his head.
The entity gawked. “What do you mean ‘mm-mm’? Andre, do you not understand what this means? You–”
He cut them off. “No! That's– that's not…” Andre grabbed his head, running fingers through his hair. He couldn't focus. What Assimilation was suggesting made him dizzy. That couldn't be right.
But it would explain everything.
It would explain what they saw in the facility. The clones of him, and Assimilation, for some reason. It would explain the unscratchable itch he felt to keep moving. It would explain why he failed to remember the promise he made to Assimilation, that makeshift plan they had thrown together, which, truthfully, had little chance of working, but at least it was something.
It would explain why he always ended up back there, that forest where they would collect him. At the end of every victory, sitting patiently for his next command, his next run. Like an eager dog pulled back to heel by a taut leash and a steady hand.
It would explain that feeling of emptiness that paralyzed him, a supposed “bug” that ran rampant through him like lines of code.
It would explain him.
Andre hoped Assimilation couldn’t see the horror-stricken look on his face, but the pity pooling in their eye told him otherwise.
Had he truly never known? There had been hints that something wasn’t quite right for a while; before Assimilation, before all of this, that he had just ignored.
Andre thought back to his very first run.
The first few minutes of the attempt passed normally. But before long, Andre realized chat hadn’t said a word, and they always had something to say. Whether it was pointing out the obvious, complaining about who knows what, or spamming the comments senseless, chat was never, ever quiet.
Andre thought it was strange, but he wasn’t worried. Why should he be? They were probably just busy, or something had come up and they weren’t able to watch him right now.
They were only human, after all.
But as the timer clicked on, Andre didn’t hear a single thing. He stopped moving; not even his Mods were on.
It was then that he noticed it: standing before a plains biome, Andre watched the grass before him sway as a breeze rippled through the foothills.
But, no, that wasn’t right. The grass wasn’t just blowing in the wind; it was wavering, as though the very fabric of reality was faltering.
Andre remembered he had reached out—
And pulled the fabric aside.
He couldn’t remember what came after.
“Assimilation?” Andre spoke.
Assimilation gazed at him.
“What am I?”
They winced. The creature that he had known for less than a day, the entity that had, but to no avail, been hunting him down, the thing that was, by nature, a monster, winced at his words.
“That’s not a question I think I can answer, Andre—”
Andre tensed.
“But– but,” they continued quickly, “I know that you are you, Andre. While I do not completely understand what the Admins had planned with you or what their motivations were, it was you, Andre, who got us out of their facility, you pitched the plan to kill them.”
They took a few steps forward.
“Andre, you standing here, right now, is proof that you are not at all what they made you out to be. And that is a great thing.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Andre.”
Assimilation stood in front of him now. The moonlight reflected in their eye, standing out ominously in the black. It should have unsettled Andre, but instead, he found it a welcome comfort. It reminded him that someone was there with him, for him.
Andre rubbed an arm over his eyes. He hadn’t realized they were stinging.
“...Thanks,” he coughed out.
A moment passed before he spoke again, “We should make a campfire, or something,” Andre started. “I can’t see shit. And it's cold.”
He didn’t feel like discussing his existence any further. He had dug up enough about himself today.
Andre crouched down to grab a stick. Assimilation shot him a look.
“Come on,” Andre gruffed, “and don’t tell me you’re not cold too. I saw you shivering when we first got here.”
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The campfire before them flickered in the small clearing, it's light casting long, distorted shadows of the wintered trees around them. Assimilation shuffled over to the trunk of a large spruce and sat down, leaning their back against the bark.
They didn't really need to sleep; they weren't human, but they were weary. The thought of slumber seemed just as enchanting as the flames that dazzled a few feet ahead of them.
Andre wasn’t human either, but Assimilation wasn’t sure he had completely accepted that yet. As Andre stood looking into the fire, they noticed that he seemed about ready to collapse: his eyes were unfocused, his arms draped loosely across one another, as if the warmth from the fire wasn’t enough. And though clearly exhausted, Andre fidgeted.
Like he was ready to run at any second.
Assimilation waited until he glanced at them to speak, not wanting to startle him.
“You need to rest, Andre. We can move in the morning,” they started. “The sun will not rise any faster with you standing all night. Sit down, Andre.”
Assimilation shook their head. Just a few hours ago, the two of them had been beating each other bloody. Now, Assimilation was agonizing over the idea that Andre would fall over from standing up too long.
They looked over to see if Andre had moved to sit somewhere or, stubbornly, to continue to stand, only to be met with confusion when they saw the campsite was empty.
It was suddenly all too cold. Andre hadn’t actually run off, had he? They had talked about this, just a handful of minutes ago, until the reality of it all came crashing down. Assimilation thought he was fine now, that he had pushed down what his programming screamed at him to do. They thought it was just an itch, a thing that made his hands shake that had nothing to do with the cold. Assimilation snapped their head left and right, wondering where in the world Andre could have gone and—
Oh.
Andre stood next to Assimilation, looking down at them as he leaned back against the tree. Once he noticed Assimilation staring, he slumped down to meet them on the ground.
“I probably should have asked first,” Andre said. “But it’ll probably get colder through the night. And this spot is closest to the fire, so…” he trailed off.
It most definitely wasn’t.
The frozen grass was suddenly very interesting to Andre. He didn't meet their eye as he spoke. “I didn’t want to leave the End, you know that. You have to know that,” he said. It was a plea more than anything.
Assimilation studied him. “…I think I do, Andre.”
"You think?" Andre gawked, tilting his head back up and quirking a brow at the entity.
A laugh escaped them, that was not the reaction they were expecting. Assimilation exhaled, “I do, Andre,” they affirmed, nodding their head. “I do now.”
A moment passed between them.
“You’re not as scary as you seem, you know. You’re all show, Assim.”
Assimilation’s eye twitched. “Do not call me that, Andre.”
Andre smirked. “Okay, okay, yeah, sorry,” he settled against them, drawing his legs in close. “Won’t happen again, Assim.”
They huffed, but didn’t say anything else.
The two of them fell into a comfortable silence after that. The campfire crackled soothingly; the murmur of creatures unknown was distant. Andre relaxed.
He was safe.
He had never felt this safe before
He had also never felt this goddamn tired before, Andre realized. Could he even get tired? He thought, before scrunching his eyes shut. Nope, Andre crossed his arms over his legs and placed his head on top, not having another identity crisis right now.
Assimilation was warm next to him. Andre peeked his eyes open, glancing at the entity. Their own eye was lidded as they looked into the fire. The flames danced in it.
He sighed. There was no timer, no record to best; he wasn’t racing against himself over and over again. It was just him and the horror by his side. Andre twirled a spear of grass between his fingers idly.
“What are we, Assimilation?” he asked.
“I thought we talked about this earlier, Andre?”
“No, no,” Andre shook his head. “Not just me, us,” he gestured between them,
“Are we friends?”
Their eye met his. “I’d like to hope that we are, Andre.”
“Friends…” Andre nodded. "Or…"
“Or?” Assimilation echoed, leaning forward.
Andre stared up at them, before resting his head on their shoulder.
Nothing more needed to be said.
They both knew.
“You’re really warm,” Andre declared. His voice was lightly muffled, now.
Assimilation chuffed. “I didn’t know I was.”
Andre turned, and Assimilation stilled before realizing he had only shifted to rest flush against their side. He kicked one leg over theirs, a nudging, playful stunt, as if to test just how much he could get away with.
Assimilation didn’t say a thing.
And as he drifted off to sleep, Andre felt an arm wrap around his back and a head rest on his own. It was a comforting, wonderful feeling.
It was warm.
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Early morning light trickled through the frozen pine, strewing lazy sunbeams across the forest floor. From somewhere deep within the woods, an animal called, its cry trembling through the wintry air. A light wind stirred the leaves above, carrying with it something too fleeting to name.
The sharp cracking of twigs and dead conifers underfoot could be heard as a figure pushed their way through the brush. They weren’t in a hurry, but they batted away the hanging branches in front of them with an annoyed hand.
As they reached a small clearing, they paused. What appeared to be the charred remains of a bonfire lay still smoldering in the center. They looked around, but whoever had lit it was long gone.
The figure sniffed, rubbing a sleeve over their nose, then adjusted their cap and walked over to the debris.
Vitriolic brushed aside cinders with her boot, tilting her head.
“Huh,” she cocked the shotgun in her arms with a click.
“Weird.”