"COME AND GET IT YOU WORTHLESS BEAST!"

Charlie heard him before she saw him. Her companion had vanished hours ago, but he often did so. She had been banished to Darkness, after all, and she didn't really expect the stubborn robot to want to stay there much. She had expected him to be in the Prison, or wandering aimlessly through the halls of Checkmate.

She never expected him to be in the World Between Worlds.

When she first stepped into the World Between, there had been a calm silence, save for the gentle ambient hum she was used to. After all, she had genuinely believed that she and Nightmare were the only ones capable of traveling here.

But clearly not. WX was here, sitting in front of one of the orbs and watching it over and over.

She said nothing for a long moment, simply content to observe. She wasn't entirely sure what scene he was watching, why he was watching it so intense on repeat, or how he even managed to get here.

The world memory contained in the orb was nothing but fast-paced movements and piercing crunching sounds. Even from Charlie's distance, the volume made her ears ache. WX seemed unaffected. As it faded into silence, he raised one hand and pressed it against the orb, causing it to restart all over again. And again, all she could see were flashes of colors. Thumping, crunching, crashing, and above it all a furious voice shouting "COME AND GET IT YOU WORTHLESS BEAST!" followed by the awful shriek of tearing metal and the rattle of metallic scraps against stone. WX didn't even wince despite the piercing intensity of the scene. Instead, he leaned forward as it got louder and louder, before fading once more into silence and static nothingness.

And again, he restarted it.

Breaking out of her haze of confusion, Charlie moved closer to see exactly which memory the robot was watching with such intensity. She could recognize his voice easily enough, being the one doing the shouting in this world memory. It wasn't until she got close enough to see the details, though, that it dawned on her what exactly it was he was watching.

"CHARLIE," the robot said stiffly in greeting without looking her way.

"You shouldn't be watching this." Charlie gently touched the orb and lifted it away from WX, casting it to drift a couple of feet above her head. At first, he simply stared after it without moving from his position. Then, he turned an irritated gaze towards her.

"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO WATCH THAT," he snapped. He eyed the world memory, but seemed to know well enough that it was too high for him to reach without making a fool of himself. "THAT MEMORY BELONGS TO ME."

"It belongs to the world," Charlie corrected calmly. "Watching yourself die over and over again will not stop it from happening, WX. It's a memory."

"I AM WELL AWARE."

Then why are you watching it? She left the question unasked. She knew she wouldn't get a real answer from him anyway. She sighed. "Stronger people than you would go insane watching these."

WX scoffed, but finally dragged himself back to his feet. Charlie winced at the screech of jagged shards of metal scraping against each other as he moved. Despite being so different from the rest of the dead Survivors, he still carried the wound that killed him. Charlie had learned to ignore the gaping hole that tore him nearly in half, but she was suddenly very aware of it now and how terribly it clashed with the relative cheerfulness of the seashells around his neck.

Charlie shook her head to dispel the thought. "How did you even get here?"

"I WALKED."

He was clearly in a sour mood. Then again, most people probably would be after watching themselves die on repeat for what Charlie could only assume to be hours on end.

Charlie forced herself to give a slight smile that she really didn't mean. She beckoned him forward as she walked further into the empty space. Orbs gently butted against her hands and legs as she moved with flashes of voices and memories echoing in her head. "If this was my first time in the World Between Worlds, I would be a bit more curious." She considered a cluster of memories, before choosing one and drifting it towards the robot. He gave it a wary look before setting it to start.

"Depressing backstory, then? Drop it on me, Spider Boy."

"...My brother..."

"The Martyr."

A slight intake of break that wobbled at the ends. The tiniest of stifled sobs.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

"He saved me. In so many ways."

WX watched it with renewed interest as it went on, his 'eyes' wide. As the memory faded, he raised one hand to touch it as if he could reach through it. Instead, it simply restarted, and he let out a rough growl and pushed it away.

"That's all he calls you, you know."

"HE SHOULDN'T," WX said quietly. He shook his head. "I AM NOT HIS BROTHER."

"I don't think he particularly cares about blood relation."

His hand flicked slightly, brushing away Charlie's words. He reached towards a new memory, one that didn't seem to contain the boy at all. His fingers brushed against it, and the sound of soft voices suddenly started up.

"I don't know what to do. Is he safe to be around?" A female voice asked.

The response wasn't in English. Not even in a human language. But it seemed to be good enough for her.

"I can tell you agree with me. I just... I don't know. I want to trust Wilson so bad. But then there was the whole Nightmare thing and... and I can't stop thinking about when I first met Tyler and he... God, Wilbur, Wilson was the one that did that to his face, wasn't he?"

WX let out another growl of frustration as he pushed that one away as well. "WHY DO SO MANY OF THESE INVOLVE WEBBER IN SOME WAY?" He demanded as he waved apart a cluster.

"Well, the world is quite interested in him," Charlie responded. "A lot of his actions might have some sort of impact in the end. And while the world stores just about everything that happens in it, it tends to have a fondness for the heir and gives up those memories more often. Not to mention he's a native, which sets him up to have more of a spotlight on him in general. Many of these involve Wilbur, too." She opened her arms to motion towards the great expanse of memories. "The world likes its natives."

WX pointed to one that was slightly out of his reach that featured an entirely different group. Charlie hesitated with one hand poised to bring it down.

"...are you sure? The fates of the other Survivors aren't... happy." That's why they're all in the Prison and suffering just as much as they did the day they died, she added silently. When he didn't budge, she brought it close enough to touch.

Immediately, scratchy sobbing assaulted her eyes. Charlie decisively looked away, unwilling to watch. She remembered this bloodbath all-too-well.

"Run, Worm!" A girl shouted."'Tox shall be safe! Freedom shalt remain in thy grasp!"

"No! No no no, friend! Can't leave friends! Friend still back there! Let go!"

"Foolish, Worm!" She cried, but any further conversation between the two was cut off by a violent roar. She let out a pig-like squeal of terror just before the awful sound of tearing meat could be heard, followed by a wet thump.

"Wilba! No, no friend!"

Charlie instinctively swiped the orb away before it could continue. She had seen this memory enough, and she was sure WX had seen plenty to understand how gruesome of an ending that group had. Surprisingly enough, that group was made entirely of natives, a trio of outcasts. She remembered Maxwell finding interest in them before Wortox got them too deep into magic best left untouched by Survivors. The imp had been crushed to death, Wilba had bled out, and Wormwood had starved to death after refusing to leave either of their bodies even after the beast had fallen back unconscious.

In the corner of her eye, she saw WX shiver despite his face being kept carefully neutral. Without even looking towards Charlie, he went to another orb, this one with a duo of people.

"Wigfrid succumbed to a mixture of freezing, starvation, and blood loss, and Wes's body gave out on him since he was only being kept alive by the cage he was in," Charlie said breezily before WX could even touch it. He drew his hand back and scowled deeply at it. "In case you're trying to figure out how everyone before you died."

He shook his head and marched further on. He brushed memories aside as he moved, blatantly ignoring anything that showed his group at all. Charlie silently followed him, prepared to list out causes of death for every Survivor here if that was what he was looking for.

It wasn't a Survivor's death he stopped for this time, though. Instead, the memory was something fairly recent, within the past couple of weeks or even days. It was the first of the memories to feature Maxwell.

WX touched the orb, and it sparked into motion.

"I'm tired of this, Maxwell. You expect me to just twiddle my claws and casually wait? He's becoming so weak that it would be nothing to take back my sentience. Why do you keep telling me to wait!?" The voice was furious. Recognizable and unfamiliar at once, tinged with a slight natural growl and noticeable emphasis on consonants. It would be impossible not to recognize the scraggly black spider visible in the memory though, especially considering it was speaking English, pacing back and forth as if irritated.

"You would think biding your time for this long would have taught you patience."

"Well, I'm running out of it. Give me one good reason to not throw this kid off of the nearest cliff the next time he starts panicking over a piece of wood."

"The robot has a life-giving amulet."

"Good for him. Why should I care?"

"Because they plan on coming to Checkmate, and you have to go through Darkness to do that."

A moment of eerie silence, punctuated by a low chuckle. "Maxy~ are you really suggesting what I think you are?"

"I am simply stating the facts that might interest you. Maybe inspire you to get a little further before murdering any children."

"Maxwell, you sly hound!"

"Whatever your plan is won't work if you keep losing your temper, though," Maxwell continued. "You don't need any more reasons for him to hate you. Maybe next time don't threaten to murder the other Survivors? You're quite terrible at keeping a poker face in this game."

The scene faded, leaving WX in a state of sort of shocked silence. Then, he snapped towards Charlie with fury lighting his expression. "WHEN WAS THIS?" He demanded.

"Recently."

He shook his head fiercely and started to pace, glaring down at his hands. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN ABOUT THIS?"

"Were you not aware that the spider wanted to take over?" Charlie replied incredulously. "Honestly, have you not been watching him at all?"

WX didn't answer. Instead, he removed the amulet from around his neck (careful to avoid damaging the seashells even in his fury) and gripped it tightly in front of his face. "I CAN'T LET HIM GET THIS."

"You're right, but you also can't just throw it away. The Ancient Guardian gave it to you for a reason."

"HOW DO I KNOW THAT THE ANCIENT GUARDIAN IS NOT WORKING WITH HIM?" He snapped.

"Because the Ancient Guardian would never bow his head to Maxwell, let alone some random spider with a superiority complex. Why do you think Nightmare had to corrupt him?" Charlie placed one hand on the amulet. "Keep it. I'm sure you will need it, or else he wouldn't have given it to you."

WX hesitated for a long moment and Charlie found herself worried that he would throw it to the ground and smash it. Then, he slowly bobbed his head in agreement and replaced it around his neck. The seashells clinked softly as they resettled around it.

"Here, maybe we could look at some of the less... miserable memories." Charlie picked one from another cluster and passed it to the robot. He nodded again and placed his hand on it, playing the world memory for him to see.

She took him through some of the brighter ones, careful to keep track of the passage of time. Nightmare would have her head if it found out that she was here instead of roaming in Darkness. But still, she couldn't find it in herself to leave behind the happier moments. She started with ones unrelated to WX or his group – Woodie and Wolfgang celebrating after defeating a tree guard together, Wortox pulling harmless pranks on his companions – but she gradually shifted it to feature the robot's group more and more until she was simply pulling memories that he would have been there for.

One, WX rewatched multiple times with a nostalgic smile on his face. It was something very mundane and slice-of-life, just himself and Webber arguing over a game of Chess. Charlie felt a pang in her chest as WX's grief and sadness showed itself clearly for the first time. Despite arguing with her about whether the two could be considered family, it was quite clear that he missed his friend dearly.

She often tried to help the Survivors who had failed. The ones who still suffered from their dying blow, even after years had passed. She couldn't save them, but she could give them some relief from their pain.

She couldn't do the same for the robot.

He wasn't trapped, and Charlie could not figure out the reason why. He was free to roam anywhere Charlie could go, be it Darkness, Checkmate, or the World Between. He was free.

But he didn't want to be in any of those places. She could see it on his face as he picked another memory to watch, this one of the rest of his trio playing in the snow while he watched them. He didn't want to be able to access information that mortals could only wish to know. He didn't want to be able to access the brain of the world, bringing memories to life with just a touch.

He wanted to be with his family again.

It was something Charlie understood more than anyone.

"They get along well," Charlie said quietly as her eyes skipped across the silent images on each of the orbs.

WX startled, as if he had forgotten she was there. "WHO?"

"Our siblings." She found the memory she was looking for and passed it to him. It was another fairly recent one- Winona fretting over the boy while Wilbur looked on. Charlie tipped her head slightly as she watched it. Winona seemed so much... older since the last time they had met. She had always been mature, but her eyes seemed bright with something new. Something like purpose.

"SHE IS MAKING HIM ANGRY," WX observed.

"Which we know from experience means only good things," Charlie pointed out with a smile.

WX chuffed out a laugh, his gaze alight with fondness. "THAT IS TRUE."

With that, she took him further and further into the room, picking out memories here and there to present to him. The last one before she had to leave was the most recent event. He leaned forward so intensely at the sight of black tentacles swarming from the Teleportato that it was a wonder he didn't fall over. Afterwards, she took him back to Darkness. As they walked, she noticed a certain heaviness to him that hadn't been there before. It surprised her, given his display of interest rather than horror at the Survivors' deaths and the amount of light-hearted memories they had gone through.

Then, he spoke.
"WHERE ARE THEY GOING TO GO NOW?" He asked. He sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Charlie thought for a moment, humming. "The second world," she finally answered.

He seemed displeased by her answer. In fact, the look of sheer disgust on his face had her chuckling.

"What were you expecting?"

"HOW MANY WORLDS ARE THERE?" He asked instead of answering her question. He looked twitchy, a physical betrayal of the irritation simmering beneath his metallic skin.

"Six, technically." WX gave her a look, a silent invitation to elaborate. She sighed, then tried counting them out on her fingers. "Well, Maxwell gave them all names when he first made them. The first one I believed he named A Cold Reception. And, yes, all of them have names like that. Then it's... I believe The Game is Afoot? Then it's King of Winter, then Two Worlds. After Two Worlds, you end up here." She opened her arms wide as they stepped into the plains of Darkness once more. "Darkness."

"AFTER DARKNESS?" He prompted.

"Checkmate," Charlie said with a half-smile. "Maxwell's Domain. That is where Webber will take the Throne, assuming he survives to reach it."

"WHY THE GAME IN THE FIRST PLACE? IF THE WORLD IS SO DETERMINED TO MAKE A LITERAL INFANT ITS RULER, WHY PUT HIM THROUGH THE RISKS?"

"First off, I'd love to see you call Webber an infant to his face. Secondly... well, the Constant doesn't just need a King. It needs a good King. A Pure one. And, in case you haven't noticed, Webber has been tainted and corrupted beyond use." She shrugged, trying to keep her tone light to offset the heaviness of what she was explaining. The thought of such a tiny child being considered tainted and corrupt was enough to make her want to cry. "So it's... I don't even know how to put this. It's purging him. Of the corruption."

"TRIAL BY FIRE," WX muttered. He kicked a clod of mud, face hardened into a furious scowl. Charlie dipped her head slightly in a nod. "AND THERE'S NOTHING WE CAN DO?"

"No. I did what I could, bringing Winona into this world. The rest is up to them."

"I SEE..." He shook his head. Without taking the time to properly excuse himself, he turned on his heel to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I HAVE THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF MEMORIES TO SORT THROUGH. DO NOT BOTHER ME." He didn't look back at her as he spoke, and Charlie got the innate sense that he was mad at her for whatever reason. She could only imagine what he wanted her to say or do. So, instead of trying to convince him to stay, she let the robot leave.

This left her alone with her thoughts, which were currently running a mile a minute. Despite what WX seemed to think of her, she wanted them to win just as much as he did. She had seen so many innocent people and creatures alike die in horrible ways to Maxwell's game, and she had to stand by helplessly and act as clean-up crew for their understandable obliterated mental states. With only one group left, she could only pray for their success. She could see the past in the form of a room filled with floating orbs, but she couldn't change the future.

A few steps and a world away, pieces moved on a board. And while Maxwell gazed upon the new set of circumstances, watching the game unfold as if it was going exactly as planned, he failed to realize that someone else was manipulating the pieces. It was his curse, after all. The price of a false idol. The nightmare of being the imitation of a king.

The true puppet master lurked in the shadows with a satisfied grin. One claw lifted lazily with a spark of black magic, showing the Nightmare Captor exactly what he wanted to see. It was falling into place quite nicely, it had to admit. But... perhaps things could be made a bit more interesting for their next round. The last round had bored it.

It would make this next challenge much more fun.