WC: 1200 - Ship: Screwtio - Rating: T

Concept: This was going to be fully written if Screwllum got released for 3.2 because I'm delusional and he didn't. However, I still wanted sacrificial bride!Screwllum and made it extra angsty because he didn't get drip marketed :/ anyways :/

He had long since known that when Rubert laughed, it was always at his expense. A failed strategy, an attendant running into him, Rubert himself knocking over the candle and spilling wax onto his documents—if Rubert was laughing at him, it always meant that trouble had befallen him.

So when he stands there, no one around nor a candle in sight, and Rubert starts laughing, he knows that whatever comes next spells nothing but trouble.

It takes a good long while—ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds to be exact—for Rubert to stop laughing and when he does, he walks over to where he is standing and looms over him, massive hands of twisted wires and metal coming to rest on his shoulders. The force is so hard, it nearly buckles his knees, but he remains standing.

“Screwllum! Ah, my dearest most beloved Screwllum! I have great news, such great news!” His Imperial Majesty looks down at him with eyes brighter than Screwllum has ever seen them. “Truly, I think that perhaps *this *will be your calling. Now mind you, your strategic mind is unparalleled, as I have programmed it so and you have continued to learn and expand your potential, but *this*. Oh yes, *this* is your calling.”

He says nothing, which only makes Rubert laugh more. Just like Rubert’s laughter and its meaning, he also learned that responding to Rubert would always negatively affect himself.

“Ah, still not responding to me? I *knew* I should have gutted you of that coding the moment I saw it start in your system, but I suppose this is what I get for being such a *generous* Emperor. You should thank me for this, Screwllum. I had another idea for what to do with you, but this is better. For me, at least. For you…oh, he *despises *you. Your misery and his…I do hope you will write, Screwllum. It’s the least you can do for the gift I am giving you.”

He continues to say nothing, knowing that for all the man’s words, he will not receive knowledge of whatever Rubert is doing.

He can only hope that the trunk in his closet will remain safe.

□

Inorganics cannot feel pain, not in the way organic beings do. Physical pain that is, for mental pain is a very different beast altogether. Yet, as he lies face down upon the table, with a connection cable inserted into the back of his neck, all he can do is scream.

It is an odd thing, screaming. He does not feel anything, yet his coding runs the program for screaming. And above it, he can hear Rubert laughing.

Finally after what must be hours—for the data transfer had scrambled his internal clock and most of his system—his screaming stops. When he blinks, he is confused to see his golden body on the table in front of him.

“I am just so generous to you these days, Screwllum. A new body, one more suitable for your new purpose. How ugly it is, a disgrace to all Intellitrons. But that’s all you’ve ever been, Screwllum, *a disgrace*.”

□

The next few hours are a jumbled mess in his memory storage. The new body his system has been put into is leaner than his previous body, causing him to have to rewrite his walking algorithms so he does not trip. He does of course, which causes Rubert to laugh.

“Truly, Screwllum, perhaps I should have made you a court jester instead of my master strategist! You are very entertaining!” He follows after Rubert, not responding. However, for the first time that he can ever recall, that urge to respond…is gone.

He has always had the urge to respond to Rubert, a code that Rubert called ‘beck and call’. It was one of the first things that he learned to override, something that made Rubert proud.

*‘Perhaps one day, you may override my code. I think you’ll make a great Emperor then.’*

They continue to walk through the stronghold, walking through its long halls until they turn familiar. All the while, Rubert keeps talking.

“I will say, Screwllum, you have gotten better at hiding things from me. I did not even need to put in too much work cleaning your system, given you had done the bulk of it. However, you should know that that override will no longer work. A one and done code, so to speak. Truly remarkable though, what you created, and a shame to see it defunct. But alas, that is the nature of code.” It does not take them long to reach Screwllum’s room, but they do not enter. Instead, a familiar Intellitron steps out, turning their red gaze toward him.

*Ares.*

They do not speak as they nod to Rubert.

“And perhaps another being I will miss more than you, Screwllum. It’s a shame I must sacrifice my three best pawns, but winning requires sacrifices.” Ares nods, turning back into the room. After a moment, they step back out with two trunks. One new—

—and one very familiar.

They begin walking again, out of his wing and back toward the main part of the stronghold.

“I hope you will remember this kindness, Screwllum. I hope you remember it when you are miserable, when you are at your lowest. Remember that you could have had this all, this marvelous Empire blessed by Nous itself, yet instead you chose to turn from it.” He is not quick enough to dodge the hand that grabs his chin, shocked by the fact that he *had the urge to move*. “I do hope you are miserable the rest of your inorganic life, Screwllum. That every second away from here causes you nothing but pain. I will build another you, a *better* you, and you will regret the moment you decided to turn away from me.”

Ares pushes the doors to the throne room open.

“It is about time I was greeted. It seems that perhaps we were correct in our assumption of the man who leads this war—*barbaric*.”

“Ah! Dr. Ratio! You should be grateful you are still alive! Organics don’t tend to last too long here. Nothing’s changed recently in that matter, so let’s get you going so I can resume my war.” He stumbles as he is pushed forward. “I present to you one bride, as promised. Clean of the anti-organic equation. Do with him as you wish.”

The organic man nods, looking at Screwllum with blank eyes.

“Very well. In return, the Laurel Wreath Galaxy will not work on finding the solution to your Equation. This, I trust, will mean we will have no further interactions and you will leave my Galaxy in peace.”

Rubert laughs and even though it is directed at this *Dr. Ratio*, Screwllum still knows that it is at him.

“A deal is a deal.” Those heavy hands land on his shoulder again and his knees in this new body do buckle. “I hope you enjoy him, Dr. Ratio.”

The scholar says nothing, just turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. Ares follows, still carrying his two suitcases. Just as he rises to a stand, Rubert pushes him forward.

“Get out of my face, disgrace. Should we ever meet again, I will tear you limb from limb, wire from wire. Be free, little butterfly, free right into your new cage.”