A.N. Me, says I'll never put an author's note here. Ha!

But listen! I made a game, go check it out if you would like. It is a short visual novel game that includes Wilford and Darkiplier being in maid outfits and acting as hosts in a café! If you're interested, here is the site: Go to (put this together)nightezra . itch . io /ego-maid-cafe

Alright, onto the story!

Google sits there, staring at the picture of the person he ran into just the day before. He did not manage to snatch a good picture of them and, looking back at the footage, it almost did not seem like they were actually present. Like they weren't fully there even though Google recalls clearly staring into their eyes...

It is strange. He had tried to see if the Author knew anything about it but he merely shrugged him off when he began asking questions. He considers a couple of possibilities before beginning to scan through old works by the Author. Maybe this is some sort of connection to the story he is part of? The Author did say it wouldn't be a true story if he knew what was going to happen but if he can figure it out without directly asking him, Google can stand a chance.

He only made it through two of the books before he heard his name being called. He sighs, getting up and going over to see the Author holding another cup of coffee. How much coffee has he consumed since last night?

"Google, we are going to try again with the person down the hall."

Google blinks. "What...? You remember what happened last time."

"Yes, when he was your owner. But now you are almost of your own. What would seal the deal is if you do not have an owner."

Google blinks, not connecting the dots immediately. "But he is my—...Oh. Oh."

Google recalls that one of his functions is to kill but...He never had anything against the guy as far as he can recall. It does not seem like it would mean anything. For complete control over what he has come to be, does it have to be this way?

"Do I have to kill him? Can't I just ask him to remove ownership or something?"

The Author watches him with bored eyes. "Google. The one thing you are meant to be good at is killing. He needs to be the first."

"But why? Why can't I kill some murderer or even a shoplifter, why do I have to kill him—"

"You need this to develop, Google. In time, you'll see. Right now though..." He picks up a crowbar that Google did not remember being in the apartment, promptly tossing it to him to catch. "You need to follow instructions. If you cooperate, everything will be fine."

"...And if I don't?"

The features of the Author seem to darken despite his maintained smile. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question, Google?"

Google only offers a stare at the other, not giving him the satisfaction of a nervous gulp. He walks past the Author, crowbar in hand. If he follows instruction, then he can find out more, maybe even get an answer about who that person is.

He walks over to the door and offers a couple of knocks, the haze of the Author writing taking hold in his head. As the door opens, he finds him and the other engaged in a stare off. "You would think by now you would check the peephole. It does serve a function."

Before Matthias has a chance to close the door, Google walks in, closing the door behind him. "Wh-What are you doing here? You aren't real, am, am I in a dream? That has to be it—I just, I just have to pinch myself, ha ha!"

Google tilts his head, raising the crowbar up. "I have a better idea." He smacks the man across the face and he goes down. Google places a hand on him and a screen pops up with a list of his vitals available. Another update...

He shakes his head, seeing the man is still very much alive. He considers killing him in the apartment but hears a voice in another room. He blinks as information becomes available: a wife. Of course he has a wife.

He shakes his head, trying to make a decision. If he stays, he may be caught, if he leaves, he fails, if he leaves with him, he can get spotted.

He looks over to the windows where he spots the fire escape. He only has a moment to think about it before he decides to go for it, picking up the individual and heading to the fire escape. He makes quick work of the window and exits, closing the window just as the wife walks in. He steps down the stairs quickly, the weight of the individual practically nothing in his hands. He has yet to hear anything from the Author, which could be a good thing. Could.

He knocks on the metal of the stairs, hoping it would suffice as wood. He reaches the bottom and kicks down the ladder. He slides down a bit faster than expected and finds them both crashing to the ground, Matthias bouncing off to the side. He recuperates quickly, taking hold of the male and making his way forward on the seemingly empty sidewalk. Looking around, he notices there is a car with an open trunk. "..." He glances around for the driver but, upon finding none, he quickly stuffs the individual into the trunk. Just as he moves to go to the front, he runs into someone.

"Ah, sorry, I—..."

Google stares at them. Why are they here?!

The individual raises their hands. "I—I know you said—"

"LEAVE."

"Look, please, hear me out? I've been doing some thinking and I think I know why you're acting like this. I know last time I needed help I was very, very pushy and I wouldn't let you anywhere near me. I get it, it's hard to forget something like that and, and I'm sorry. But remember, we promised we would talk things out next time?" They reach forward, taking hold of his hands. "I don't care how much trouble you're in, I want to be here for you. I'm not leaving you alone, not like this. You and I, we can get through this. Just let me help you—..." They look down to Google's hands and notice a bit of blood. "Greg? Why...why is there red paint on your hands? Are, are you taking up painting or something?"

"..."

Before Google can say anything else, the driver of the vehicle comes over and tells them both to get out of the way. Google sees their keys and moves, tugging them out of their hand and quickly getting into the car, driving off before anything else can be done.

"That individual seems to be persistent, Google. Why not let them help? They can be an excellent little addition to the story—you and they could be pals."

He shakes his head as he turns down the next street. "I don't want them part of this."

"You say that like this is a bad thing, Google. I'm hurt."

Google lets out a laugh, not buying a bit of it. "Just leave them alone."

"I'm trying but...it's so hard when they seem to keep finding themselves in the narrative. It really is tempting."

"You want me to cooperate? You can't bring them into the story, that's that."

"Are you really trying to give me a requirement, Google? I do not have to listen to you or give you free will."

"...Please."

Google strains to hear something, anything but finds that the Author has gone quiet. He sighs, hoping that he did not upset him as he turns off to another intersection. He just needed to get some distance, that's all.

The Author walks out of the apartment and sees the driver giving a report to the police, the other person present keeping his distance but watching where Google had driven off, his features soft, but hurt.

"You seem like you've seen better days," the Author offers, making the other jump.

"Ah-uhm, yeah, just, y'know. It's crazy, this guy over here was just trying to get into his car and then some person just took their keys and took off! It's, it's crazy...yeah..." He nods to himself, holding his skateboard close.

The Author watches him. "That doesn't seem to be all that's on your mind."

The other blinks. "O-Oh? Well, I mean, it's not—it is! It is, all of that is on my mind, yeah." He shakes his head. "I mean, what is it to you? Who are you anyway? I don't remember asking you to try and evaluate who I am."

"I am merely a stranger who took concern, I meant no harm."

The other's shoulders dropped. "O-Oh...Sorry, I just, I'm not the best right now. I think...I think I may have been dumped." He shakes his head, wiping his eyes. "Ah, sorry, that's uhm, erm, weirder to say aloud. Didn't like that."

The Author watches him. "...You're boring."

The other blinks. "What?"

"If you were dumped in a way that had no coming back from, shouldn't you be angry? Furious?"

"I, well, I mean, I loved him." He covers his mouth, tears pricking more. "I-I..."

"Mm..." The Author shakes his head. "Boring. Go get a tissue or something."

The other looks at him, completely flabbergasted by what he said. "I—GO TO HELL!" He throws his skateboard down and skates off, leaving the Author smiling to himself. He hums, entering into the building once more, allowing the gears in his mind to turn.

Google steps out of the car and looks around. No one is in sight...

He breathes, heading around to the back and opening up the trunk. The moment he does, he finds two feet angled at him. He is knocked backwards and Matthias steps out. "LOOK, I, I think, I think I know you! Y-Y'know, y'know, hah, when that other guy knocked me out the other day, it didn't occur to me that you and him would share the same batting arm! Except you," he laughs, looking at the car. "You hit me with a CROWBAR."

Google sits up and allows the individual to let out all of the rambles inside of him before speaking. "I know this is not an ideal situation—"

"Not an ideal situation, oh, yeah, finding out my wife and I live next to a couple of CRAZY PEOPLE is certainly not ideal, oh yeah. While we are at it, why don't we think of when you were delivered to my apartment! And then shorting out when I asked you a question, really, you sold that fever dream to me." He looks around. "And what was next? Hm? You take me out here to kill me?" He laughs.

Google stays quiet, watching him.

"...W-Wait, wait you're, YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME?!"

"SHUSH!" He quickly gets up and goes towards the other who moves back to the car, climbing on top of it.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE!" He whines to himself, holding his face in his hands as he asks how he manages to find himself in these situations. "What do you want? Money? Something, I, I, I don't know, please, man, you can't do this to me I—I don't wanna diE!"

"IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE THEN SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"

Matthias immediately shuts up.

"Okay, you have to listen to me very, very carefully. If we screw this up, I cannot guarantee you will see your wife again."

"What are we gonna do?"

"Google looks over to the freshly made grave. Burying the victim alive, hm?"

Google nods, beginning to walk to the car. "I'll get rid of the car and then walk home."

"Alright, I will have another assignment waiting for when you get back—Wait."

Google stops, trying to maintain a perfect calm about the situation. "What?"

"Google looks around him again...Hm, must be nothing. Get back here soon."

Google nods, going over to the car and beginning to drive off, the haze of the Author leaving. Google had given him a straw to breathe under the earth until he was ready to move...Google only hoped that he would listen to him and stay low. If he was found alive, it could mean the end for them both.

Of course, this would mean that they need to move before that happens. The lease is ending. It could just be a matter of convenience.

He begins looking for other apartments in the area, maintaining a clear focus on the road at the same time.