The Author was standing beside his desk, tapping his foot impatiently as he stared at the figure in his seat. The humanoid thing was reading his notes, a thoughtful frown covering his face. Then finally, he sat up and rose out of the chair.

"You ne-eded me why-y again?" He asked, turning to the blind folded man. His voice was glitchy and collected as he waited for an answer.

The Author muttered under his breath as he turned away and walked to the stairs. He leaned against the railing and pressed his forehead against the post with a sigh, and he fell quiet for a few seconds.

"... Google," he suddenly spoke. "The Author wants to know when it all started."

"Defi-ine it," Google sneered. The Author turned and scowled at the man.

"The Author knows Google heard him; when!?" He snapped. A beep told the blindfolded man that Google was doing as he asked, and he relaxed a little as he looked at the white 3D G on Google's blue shirt.

"The a-answer is not defi-initive." Google looked at the Author, and the blindfolded man blanched and suddenly looked tired. Google smirked. "You re-eally caused damage out the-ere, Host." Worn out, the Author sank down and sat on the floor among his scattered notes.

"Th-the Host never realized how much damage he caused," he whispered. "He never meant for this to happen, he had only wanted to be free..." Google rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"You have o-only made us stro-onger," he taunted. The Host said nothing. Google scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. "Look ho-ow pathetic you ar-re. You are as ba-ad as a human, as hi-im even!" The Author looked up at Google and whimpered.

"The Author never meant to hurt anyone," he murmured in dismay. "He only wanted to write and tell his stories." Google sighed.

"We-ell, that will never ha-appen since you ju-umped Dark's comma-and." The author's lip curled as he pressed his hands against his temples, and he grit his teeth.

"What is the most definitive answer Google can provide?" He asked. Google gave the blindfolded man a cold smile.

"Chao-os, my frie-end. Absolu-ute chaos." The Host hung his head. Google curled his lips in disgust. "Look at you-ou. You're a pathe-etic creature, a sca-avenger. After what you di-id, you don't even belo-ong here. You should be gra-ateful for what Da-ark has done for you." The author's head came up, and it was his turn to scowl.

"Dark did nothing for the Host!" He seethed. "That demon cares for no one but himself! He would rather see Him die than live dependently!"

"And in ti-ime, we will," Google reminded coldly. He simpered. "Tha-anks to you're li-ittle fairy ta-ales." The blindfolded man frowned and covered the bloody cloth with his hand, and then he lowered his hand again. He repeated this, as if trying to take it off, but he did not.

"Does Google not remember what that demon has done to the Host?" The author croaked hoarsely. "Does Google not see that Dark is malicious and oppressive?" Google stared at the Host.

"... we a-are who we a-are," he reminded. "And you-ou have brought us to life. You have fre-ed us, and you ha-ave made a passagewa-ay between our wor-rlds." Google's eyes narrowed. "But you-ou also created the Fractur-re. You have bro-oken time itself!"

"... The Author did not mean to though," the author whispered. Google growled and pushed the blindfolded man against the wall, pinning him by the shoulders.

"Sack up Ho-ost!" He snapped. "Accept your wro-ongs and endure your-re punishment!" The author said nothing, and Google's anger ebbed away. He slowly let his friend go. "There is no-othing I can do for you-ou," he sighed. "I am so-orry. But what's done is do-one." His eyes darkened as Google scowled. "The o-only one he tru-usts is Wi-ilford, and that's only beca-ause he doesn't have the se-ense to disobe-ey Dark."  The Host frowned.

"Google is afraid." Google exhaled slowly. His throat muscles twitched with nervousness as the author walked closer to his computer friend. "Google cannot stand up against Dark, but he too despises the demon," the blindfolded man rumbled. Google didn't grace the accusation with an answer. His eyes glanced nervously at the darkness around the room, as though he expected the demon to come out.

"Da-ark is ve-ery powerfu-ul," Google stammered. His unease made his glitching voice even worse. "And he-e is mo-ore powerfu-ul than us a-all." The Host looked at Google for a few seconds before his head bowed in respect.

"Perhaps Google does not realize how powerful the Host is," he murmured. Google frowned as the Host walked to the door.

"Whe-ere are you-ou going?" He asked. The author paused with his hand on the door handle.

"The Host must speak with Dark and apologize." Then he opened the door and walked into the darkness. Google watched him go, and for a few seconds he stood in the quiet dark room. The cold darkness from outside had sighed a chilly breeze, and the candles were out. Google's eyes illuminated as he activated night vision, and he turned and walked to the writer's desk.

Google was solemn as he quietly sat back down in the Host's chair, and he squared his shoulders with a sigh. He looked at the papers left on the author's desk, and he noticed a second pile that stood away from the stack Google had just read. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, and he pulled the pile closer and picked up the first page. And in the darkness, he began to read.

And outside, Thunder rumbled as the darkness began to close in.