Chapter Text
If there was one thing Spamton had learned to recognize over his many years of being a failure, of having people find a use for him in back rooms crunching the numbers, it was when that use had run out. It never lasted, not really. Not the way he needed it to. Eventually, Spamton would serve his purpose, push someone to heights he couldn't follow them to, wasn't wanted for. They would step up and turn their back on him, and he would still be stuck there. On the bottom rung, searching for the next opportunity to feel useful. To feel wanted.
He'd felt more than wanted with Tenna. And maybe that's what made this hurt so much. He'd done it, got him that stupid fucking deal he wanted so badly, figured out who had been stealing from him, got there money returned. And now, his use had run out. Tenna could find another assistant, one that could do all the shit Spamton managed. The shit Crepe had been doing perfectly fine before he showed up. It didn't even matter. He didn't matter. What he had with Tenna didn't matter.
All those moments of pushing him for more, encouraging him to take risks he had no right taking, none of it mattered. Tenna didn’t actually care. He probably did it because he was embarrassed of him. It was a lot easier to convince yourself that someone was worth sleeping with if they were successful, even if you had to set them up to be that way yourself. Tenna would never want him as he was.
A scam artist. A failed advertisement. Something meant to waste his new free time on but never meant to be important.
Because he would be struck from the schedule as soon as something better came along. Tenna demanded he make it work, and there was only one thing that deserved to be erased from the schedule. Only one thing that could be erased to make it work. Only one thing that wasn’t too important to have to work around. Tenna probably didn’t even notice. He didn’t care. And why should he?
Tenna was going to leave him for Consolius anyways. Not that they were even together for Spamton to be left. But he'd seen it, he wasn't stupid. The giddy way Tenna behaved when he called. The way he was always ushered out of the room. Spamton knew what he was. Knew how unwanted he always would be. Nothing more than a cheap fuck. Especially not for a man like Ant Tenna.
The drive to the bridge he subconsciously referred to as his bridge took a shorter amount of time than he’d have liked it to. Traffic wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be, and it was almost like the city itself was encouraging him forward. Of course it would be. Cyber City had no place for an Ad that couldn’t sell. It had no place for Spamton G. Spamton. Not as anything more than the backdrop serving someone else’s success. He was so tired of being someone else’s success story… He was glad he at least got to make it happen for someone he cared about this time. Even if Tenna would likely never look at him the same way he had been looking at the TV.
He left the keys in the car. What did it matter if it was stolen? He wasn’t going to have a use for it very much longer anyways. Spamton leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the steering wheel, thanking the car for her service. He had spent his life wanting one of those beauties, and the car deserved to feel his thanks for its companionship at the very least. For the last bit of his life, it had been there for all his highest and lowest moments. He hoped whoever took it after he was gone appreciated it as much as he did.
He lit a cigarette as he walked to his usual spot, staring into the middle distance. Cyber city was a beautiful place, lights and color surrounded him on all sides. A city that had no night cycle, a city that truly never slept. There was always something going on here. So many things that Spamton would never be good enough to be a part of.
Smoke billowed out around him as he sighed, sitting on the filthy ground with his feet dangling over the edge of the bridge. He should enjoy the last of them before he ends it. No point in wasting perfectly good smokes. There were only two left in the pack anyways, it wasn’t like that would drag this out any longer than it had to. He smoked until the cigarette between his teeth was gone, nothing more than a filter. He’d started smoking a nicer brand after the first pay raise he’d gotten on TV Time. It seemed a bit wasteful now to have spent the extra money. Even if they did taste better, it wasn’t like he deserved the luxury.
The scent of the city was a comfort in a way. Car fumes and acidic water, the ozone scent of electricity burning through the computer. It’s what he’d known since he was a little code, and it felt right in a way, to be dying with it too.
His hands shook a little as he lit the last of his cigarettes, tossing the empty package into the river below him. It was already so polluted, Spamton couldn’t believe it would actually matter. Maybe he should care a little more about what he intended to make his method of deleting himself. Spamton didn’t think he mattered enough to deserve better than this regardless. He was just another piece of trash that would pollute the river at the end of the day.
It wasn’t the first time Spamton had climbed up over the railing to balance himself above the neon green river. It wasn’t the first time he leaned forwards, keeping himself suspended only with the loose grip of his fingers on one of the metal rungs. It wasn’t the first time he heard someone shout his name in panic from behind him.
It was the first time he let his fingers slip.
He looked back as he fell, the worried face of Clickson staring back at him as the pink Addison reached down to try and catch him, fingertips only barely grazing his shirt as Spamton fell out of reach. Time seemed to slow, it felt almost like the fall to the polluted acid river took longer than the drive from the studio. Every moment was able to flash before his eyes with startling clarity, every byte of his memory playing back behind his eyelids as they shut. Every failed sale, every taunt and cruel reminder of his uselessness from the other Addisons. Every exasperated look from Tenna. Every smile. Every gentle kiss.
What was he doing? Tenna hadn’t left him yet. It wasn’t over yet! He could have lied to Crepe, got her to return it all and kept his job anyways. At least until Tenna decided he wasn’t worth keeping around anymore. He could have waited until Tenna and Consolius officially got together and he was pushed to the side. He could have at least taken advantage of it while it lasted.
He didn’t want to die like this. Not yet. Angel, please, not yet.
He crashed into the water, knocking the air from his lungs in the impact. Panic shot through him as he sank, desperately trying to claw his way back up to the surface. But Spamton had never learned how to swim, and he flailed blindly under the current. He didn’t want to die, not yet, maybe he could have done more. Maybe he could have found a purpose again.
He could do it. He would keep trying to find his place in the world, trying to find somewhere he wouldn’t be pushed out of after serving his use. As many tries as it took, he could keep going, as long as he didn’t die here, struggling to find breath.
The polluted acid river burned at his eyes as he tried to breach. He couldn’t swim, oh Angel, he was going to die. He was going to drown here. It hurt. It hurt so badly. He had to breathe, but he wasn’t above the surface. Burning acid filled his mouth, choking down his throat and into his lungs. Spamton could feel them sizzle inside him, blood gathering in the open wounds it was creating.
All he could see around him was the neon lights warping in the green liquid, but his vision was fading fast as he struggled to get oxygen into his lungs.
He didn’t want to die like this.