The .Exe9000 Program

Week One

They called it The .Exe9000 Program. That was all Pewds had learned so far. He’d been locked up in this tiny cell for days, seeing nothing but doctor guys in lab coats, the occasional techie. None of them really told him anything. Whenever he asked what the fuck they wanted, why he was brought here, they all replied with the same answer. You’ve been selected to take part in The .Exe9000 Program. As if it were some sort of honor. Ha! Yeah right. If this wasn’t some secret government conspiracy to take over the world, then he was a barrel. He’d played enough video games to know the signs. And this screamed hush hush, covert situation. Didn’t help that he’d woken up in this cell with NO memories as to how he even got here. Memory loss? Fuck, it was Amnesia all over again!

Pewds paced the room, anxious and wound tight as a spring. Worse. there were no distractions in here. Nothing he could entertain himself with. Just walls, a bed, a door, with one tiny window set in its cold metal. When he’d first woken up days ago, he’d tried breaking it open, yelling, kicking the door frame. Nothing worked. Now he settled for staring out the glass,  face smushed against its clear surface. That’s how he saw the doctors and everything. They all left him alone, unless it was to push food through the door’s tiny flap. The remains of today’s lunch sat to the right, and Pewds picked up the fork from his plate, grumbling. “Well Fork! Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.” He flopped onto his bed, drumming his sternum with the utensil. Program or not, how long were they gonna keep him here?

Week Two

More prisoners were being brought in. That’s what they were, right? Couldn’t say test subjects, since nothing had actually been DONE to him yet. Him. Pewds didn’t know about anyone else. Peering out the window, he watched the coated fiends wheel people down the hallway on creepy metal gurneys. This completely tromped the spookiness of Outlast, for sure. Each new guy was strapped to their gurney and covered with a white blanket, their faces exposed, blank in sleep. He didn’t recognize most of them. There were a few that seemed kinda familiar though. One guy with reddish brown curly hair, freckles, glasses askew on his face. Another with locks as wild as Harry Potter’s, and wow, was his nose huge! Pewds snickered despite himself, watching more and more people pass by.

The coats didn’t seem to mind, or just considered it pointless to. They pushed the unconscious ones along, silent in their work. Too silent. It was creepy! Shuddering, the Swede pushed his face to the glass, trying to get a better look at the new arrivals. But as he did, he got the feeling that there was something in…common with all of them. And himself. They were familiar. Not just random people taken off the streets. Pewds had seen them all somewhere before, even if it was just in passing. Like that girl! Glasses perched on her pert nose, deep red hair. Pretty. He’d seen her online before! And him! Close cropped hair, scruff. ….wasn’t he from that Youtube show? The Slow-Cro…Go….Moo Guys? His palm touched the door, anxiously flexing as the doctor guys vanished further down the hall, prisoners in tow. “What the fahk is going on??”

Week Three

For some weird, secret program, they didn’t really do a lot of sciency stuff. Weren’t they supposed to be performing some strange experiments on him? Cut him open? Torture? Anything? All Pewds had really done so far was look at these weird flash cards with lines of code looking things on them, and dots. Every day for the past week, one of the scientists had come to the blond’s cell and showed him the cards, asking if he knew what they were. If he could understand it. At first, Pewds had tried to fuck with them. “It’s a duck!” Or a summoning spell, in some mysterious language. Were they trying to conjure the Walrider? Apparently not though. When those got him nothing, he tried called for Aiden. Maybe he was secretly Jodie, and just didn’t know it? But still, a whole lot of nothing.

Hmm. Very interesting. Curious, he sat on the bed and waited for them to come. Thoughts of escape and freedom had disappeared long ago. This was too good a mystery to leave hanging. And he was Pewdiepie! He left nothing unfinished, bitch! He’d see this through to the very end……except this wasn’t a video game. There were no promises of check points, saves, cheats, anything.  He was all on his own in this. He didn’t even have Ken or Minx to help him get through it! But he’d be ok. Cracking a smile, Pewds’s door opened, and he greeted the scientist with a cheerful wave. He’d play their stupid games, figure this shit out. Then, when they were least expecting it, he’d strike! Yeah. He could do this!

Week Four

The words Test Subject 6512924 were emblazoned on his shirt pocket, and the Swede glanced around, seeing if he recognized anybody else standing in the room. For some reason, he and a bunch of other prisoners had been brought to another place in the facility, completely made of glass and tiled in steel plates. This was the first time he’d been out of his cell since waking up here, and Pewds relished it, gleefully grinning at his companions. None of them were smiling, but a few flashed weak grins with his encouragement. Like the girl with tan streaked locks, goggles atop her head, and a brunette guy, hair styled in a soft peak. They didn’t speak though. None of them did. Everyone just stood there, separated into two rows before a line of computer monitors and cables, the ends attached to their foreheads with those stupid, plastic circle things. Pewds scratched his head. They were itchy!

Words and numbers started flashing across the screens. He looked at them, confused. Were they supposed to spell something? It was just blue letters! The fuck did it mean? Pewds glanced around at the other testers. Everyone seemed as confused as he was, and a soft muttering filled the room. Tawny streaked girl…1391424, according to her shirt, was talking to the guy who’d grinned at him. Test Subject 193152020. Pewds really wanted to figure out if those digits meant anything too, or if it was all randomly generated. Hmm. But they looked to him, as if to see if he got it. He gave an exaggerated shrug, swirling his finger close to his head. These guys were crazy! Though he didn’t get much of a chance to elaborate further. His screen flashed a garishly green 75%, then faded to black, and the coats came into the room to detach them from their electrodes, leading everyone back to the cells. Pewds went with an eye roll, sharing a frown with the other two subjects. All these stupid tests, weeks cooped up in their cells. The fuck was this program up to?

Week Five

Over the next week, he and the other prisoners were put through more tests, but they all ended the same. Pointlessly. And still nobody got what the hell was going on! It was all on the down low, and the doctors weren’t talking. Groaning, Pewds shoved his food tray away, frustrated and making faces at the leftovers. Bland, boring. Prison food should be more interesting! He raked his bangs back, and decided to head back to the cells. The hallway containing them was connected to a cafeteria, but since the food was all gross, and no one was into the mood to talk, Pewds figured relaxing in his cell was the best bet. At least before the nighttime tests began. He could enjoy the quiet, maybe sneak a peek in the other cells, see if his roomies at the facility were hiding anything cool.

Kicking the swinging door shut behind him, the Swede walked down the long hallway. His was Cell Number 56, way at the very end. Seriously, what was with the long ass numbers? Each door had a nameplate with the long string of digits. He passed 75, 72, too many doors, bla bla bla, shit, how many people were in this damn place, 68, there were too many doors, 62, all the cells, 59--hey, this one was open! Pewds peered inside. The doctors were undoing the straps holding a guy to the gurney, and as they lifted his unconscious frame, his head lolled to the side. His uniform said Test Subject 31825 in electric blue script. Huh. …..he was kinda cute. No homo! Pewds cackled to himself, walking the rest of the way to his cell and closing the door behind him.

Week Six

These guys really needed to make a set schedule or something! One week of confinement, then freedom, then confinement again! It was annoying! Not to mention, all but one of the tests were suspended for the prisoners on his half of the hall. They only had new flashcards now, each one filled with more of that same, stupid code he assumed they were supposed to be deciphering. Well, wasn’t happening! Too bad the flashcards were all he had to occupy himself with. Everyone else…..fuck, Pewds didn’t know. Were they getting tested? He was pretty sure he heard screams coming from the cells farther down the hall. Padded or not, they weren’t that good at muffling sound, which made for some awkward sleeping arrangements come nightfall. BUT, that was the closest he’d gotten to any human interaction this week. It was driving him crazy!

Pewds rapped his skull against the wall, staring at the cards spread out across his monotone bedspread. There were seventeen of them, and each one displayed letters, numbers, all printed in the same florescent ink spelling out his prisoner number, and the one on his cell door. Scratching his head, the blond tried to figure out, yet again, what they might mean. 229182119-.5245-6211432091514.-1955119147-8151920. It repeated that over and over on the first card, all on tiny lines of pale green that blurred together the longer he stared at it. “Faaahk….” he huffed and smacked the cards off his bed. Whatever! Fine! So he couldn’t figure it out. BIG DEAL. Wasn’t his fault that the stupid things didn’t make any sense! Pewds assured himself of this, flopping back on the bed. He barely noticed the bits of plastic as they clattered to the floor, code shimmering like a mirage, giving way to new text. Test Subject 6512924. 50%.

Week Seven

Now he really wasn’t sure what these guys were up to. Every subject in the facility was cooped up in a glass cage, and they’d been left to their own devices for over an hour. Nobody knew why. There were computers lined up against the far side, some chairs, a few scattered books and magazines. Pewds had already rifled through half of them. But, he’d figured one thing out. They weren’t all random. Everyone in here was a Youtuber. Lets players, animators, musicians. He’d only recognized a select few, caught glimpses of others. Ken was here. Both men had already had their warm hellos a few days earlier, until the toast lover went off to talk with a few others. He didn’t see him now. Sp00n and Nova were here too, and a lot of the guys from….Rooster Teeth? The Swede was pretty sure that’s what they called themselves. He waved at the auburn one, who was gesturing at big nose to shut up and focus on the computer they were holed up at. Nice guys. Pewds decided to stay away from them. He DIDN’T want a rage quit to the face.

Tossing away his latest magazine choice, he wandered the room. It really seemed like everyone in the program was here! He interacted as best he could, got recognized a lot. Some of these guys were ones he’d done co-ops with, in the past, or at least seen or heard a few times. Enough to get a gist of who they were. Except…him. The one in cell 59. He was huddled in a chair in the far corner, swinging his leg and looking damn nervous to be here. Weird. Looked like he was the only guy not interested in socializing. Moving closer, Pewds locked eyes with him. Darker blue than his own, framed by rectangular glasses and a fringe of chocolate lashes. They widened as he approached, and whoever he was practically leaped from the chair, hurrying away. The Swede gaped. What was that about? He just wanted to say hi! Pouting, Pewds hollered after him, claiming the guy’s chair. “RUDE! You don‘t get this back now sir!”

Week Eight

The facility was up to something. Uh…something else. Besides the testing and whole kidnapping Youtuber’s plot. Pewds could feel it in the air. Something was happening. It was warm, firm--no, not his penis! Maybe it had something to do with the freaky goggles visors they were all wearing. Strapped to their heads like some disturbing cousin of the Oculus Rift, they were blue tinted, and every once in a while code flashed across the opaque surface, blinding him. Like right now. “FAHK!” Pewds tried to rub his eyes, squinting at the stupid numbers. 415-251521-2114451819201144-25520. Goddammit. “What does it mean?!”

He was so done with this shit. If they were gonna experiment with him, couldn’t they make it easier to figure out? He was a genius! Not some rocket scientist code cracker! Muttering to himself, the blond disconnected the cord of his visor from the terminal it was plugged into, a headache pounding at his skull. The code went away after flashing green, 25% blinking in the far corner of the blue screen. Yeah yeah. Stupid thing. Cable tossed away, Pewds stalked out of the tiny glass room his terminal had been stationed in. One of the lab coats was there, and he peered closely at his visor, recording something on a pad of paper. Secret government intel? All Pewds glimpsed before getting pushed onward was a row of numbers, and the words CANDIDATE POTENTIAL listed next to 31825. “What the--”  

Week Nine

He awoke to screams. Flailing between the sheets, Pewds leapt up and swore, Swedish rolling off his tongue in something that was familiar, yet not after months of being here. That didn’t matter though. Who was screaming? He ran to the door and peered outside. The hallway was black, except for the little lights studded into the ceiling. It made everything creepy and shadowed, and he felt his skin crawl. And the screams weren’t stopping. They grew louder and louder, echoing in his ears. Cringing, the blond palmed the door. Louder. Higher pitched. The cries shook him to the core. He’d never heard such awful noises, even with all the games he’d played. He knew where they were coming from too. Doctors! From the gloom they appeared, pushing a gurney. It wasn’t empty. Somebody was strapped down, a visor locked over his face, glowing faint blue and racing with red and aqua code. Electrodes and cords were threaded in his hair, wrapped around his arms, seemed to be part of his very body. He thrashed around, screaming at the top of his lungs, yelling obscenities and promises of death at the scientists. The Swede got a little scared himself.

“H-Hey!” He banged on the door. “Leave him alone!!” His pleads caught one of the doctor’s attention, who’d stopped outside his door, and the guy--Test Subject 31825. The one from the testing room! He begged for help, biting at the hand that tried to cover his mouth. The terror in his eyes….fuck! Pewds banged harder, but it wasn’t the coats that made him stop. It was the prisoner. His voice. He KNEW that voice. Heard it a thousand times, in all sorts of states. Co-ops, voice acting, reads. Oh fuck. No. It couldn‘t be. Why had he never realized?! They were all Youtubers. ALL of them. “…………Cry?” Color leeched from his cheeks, and he threw himself at the door, yelling furiously as the scientists pushed the gurney away from him, down the hall and into the black abyss. Cry’s screams haunted him, until they suddenly fell quiet, leaving only the squeak of wheels. NO! Pewds hollered after them, metal bruising his fists. “Cry!! D-don’t worry about it! I’ll save you!!” Silence. “Cry?! CRRRYYYY!!!!”

Week Ten

That time never came. One by one, every subject in the facility disappeared. Ken, Minx, Sp00n. All of them, gone, until Pewds himself was led from his cell and thrown into another cage. What he faced there were a row of scientists, the same bastards who’d taken his friend away…….and Cry. But it wasn’t Cry. Not anymore. They’d done something to him. He was hooked up to computers, screens, cords protruding from his flesh, exposed veins of scientific data. Rows of code and numbers illuminated the walls, miniatures glittering in the reflection of his gaze. Trembling, Pewds listened to them explain. The .Exe9000 Program had finally reached success. Test Subject 31825 was VIRUS COMPATIBLE. They introduced him like--like he was a fucking clinical experiment, and Cry watched blankly, his eyes glowing blue lenses behind the visor. Was he…really gone?

“Cry…..bro?” Reaching out a hand, the blond appealed to him. Hoping. Praying. Cry sat seemingly listless in his chair, until he opened his mouth. What came out of it was placid and calm, but so cold. “Good evening, Felix. My name is Virus. I am the success of the .Exe9000 Program. I became operational October 25, 2013.” Cry stood up, and cables hovered around him, neon blue and pulsing with energy. The scientists backed away, leaving them to face each other. Alone. “Do you remember, Felix? Do you remember that night?”

Pewds recoiled in horror as the brunette stepped forward, lifting an arm. Fuck!  “Cry! What‘re you doing?!” He scurried backwards, but his back met a glass wall, trapping him between it, and the cables that snaked around his legs and waist. Circling his windpipe. Crushing him. “C-CRY!” Clawing at the cords, he begged in a choked voice, heels scuffing the floor. It all fell on deaf ears, and the life in him seemed to bleed away, traveling down those electric colors into the man who wielded them. The man who approached with a cool stare, speaking with his beloved voice. Chastising. Reproachful. “My name is Virus. Don’t you remember?” Tan fingers reached for the Swede‘s face, and a bright line of code flashed across Cry’s visor. 20518139141205. Cry smiled. “It’s alright. I’ll remember, Felix. I’ll remember for both of us now.”

He stopped kicking. Stopped fighting. Listless, Pewds slumped in the man’s grip, feeling those fingers ghost across his cheek. He heard him murmur one last thing, then fell into the waiting inky black. The doctors spoke, data glowing on the screens, in Cry’s eyes.

Test Subject:  6512924. 0%.

Subject 31825: 100%.

The Chaotic Virus is now functioning at full capacity.