Something shifts, though. Some break in the signal.

The first sign of trouble is Ramb.

“Slight complication, mate.”

“What!?”

“Toriel’s not looking too hot. Started tossin’ and turnin’ in there.”

“She ROLLED OVER in her SLEEP!?”

“S’what I said, yeah.”

“Did you try the CLASSICAL MUSIC CHANNEL like I SAID!?”

“Look, Tenna, I’m doin’ what I can -”

“You know she’ll be GRAVE DANGER in if she’s AWAKE for this, right!?”

“You think I don’t try?!” says Ramb, crackly but clearly mad. “Ugh - y’know what? Don’t care. I quit. Sort yourself out.”

Tenna yells, and keeps yelling, even as the line cuts, even as he’s left alone in a cardboard corridor with no company but his own voice echoing off the flimsy walls. His whole body’s trembling with rage and anxiety in equal part. Damn good-for-nothing layabout son-of-a-gun! Doesn’t he know who he’s talking to? Tenna is TV! He’s the real deal, the chassis of the whole operation! And what’s Ramb, some chewed-up cable stuck behind the couch? Just because he’s not the one who’ll be unplugged if all of this goes sour -

Doesn’t matter! What matters is the Lightners, who are still AWOL, who need to be brought back in line like the rest of this angel-forsaken place. They’re not safe if they’re not contained. What happens next is better off avoided; Kris has made that more than clear. Now if they’d only practice what they preached and keep their little friends in line…

Plan B, then: bargaining. Surely he’s got something kicking about in the secret bonus zone that the kids will like! That is, if he hadn’t poked his head in to find a gamble of twenty-odd Pippins digging through the chests for extra POINTs and draining the prize pool out from under him. Have these people no shame?!

(Admittedly, he did cut off everybody’s POINT supply until they find the Lightners. But can you blame him? Clearly things aren’t getting done around here!)

“Alright! ALRIGHT, you little ripoff artists!!! You think you can take MY cookies!? Might I remind you, you signed a little, ahem, TELEVSION CONTRACT!

… These aren’t their contracts. Where the hell are their contracts???

Understanding why, exactly, everyone is turning coat against him doesn’t make it any easier to handle. Tenna tries to think of a workable Plan C, or D, or X-Y-Z, but it’s no good changing channels when the signal’s been disrupted. Every corner he turns it seems like there are fewer guards patrolling, more empty halls for him to scan and see no signs of Susie or Kris. Worse, the audience seem to be gradually changing their favour - cheers for his arrival turn to gasps, turn to oohs of anticipation and unrest.

“GUYS!” he calls their attention - “WHY are you DAWDLING like this?!”

“Uhm,” one of the Zappers tugs a nonexistent collar, “didn’t you hears, boss? Or, uh, ex-boss? We’s off the clock now. Forever.”

“H-huh!?”

Contracts are all gone, riffs a Shadowguy.

“So, what, you’re GIVING UP? You can’t do that! What about the SHOW?!”

Seems like a lost cause to me -

“- Maybes the Lightners just don’t wanna tunes in no more,” another Zapper shrugs.

“What?! You’re KIDDING! They wouldn’t just run off in the middle of a BATTLE and then NOT COME BACK! I just need to - I’ve just gotta -”

Boss, I think you have to face the music.

Ridiculous! Laudable! Tenna’s laughing at it right now! It’s gonna be fine, of course it’s gonna be fine! He’s TV! He’s everything a Lightner could ever want! Why would they wanna run AWAY?

Hey - “H-hey, stop!!” The Darkners, too, are starting to back away from him one by one and slip into the shadows. “Don't go...!!”

But they do, and they already have, before he’s even finished talking.

Thus falls the house of cards: with one swift blow to its foundations, the whole damn thing caves in. Ramb’s gone. The staff are gone. Lanino and Elnina give each other nervous looks, like they’re thinking what a weirdo, and then they back off as well, into the night.

Everything’s changing so fast. At least he’s got the reliable constant of…

“M… Mike? You’re leaving too?”

Spotlight. Wastelands. Alone. Soundtrack silent.

The lights go down on Mr Tenna, and he feels something in him break.

He’s shaking again, undone. Everyone is gone. Everyone. The Lightners don’t want him; the Darkners can’t stand him. Mike’s leaving too.

The floor is unsympathetic to his screams. There is no audience.

He struggles to his feet, stumbles somewhere cold. That’s it, then. There’s nothing left for it. If everybody else in this dark world is on Kris’ side, then Tenna’s just going to have to play the villain. (Like he hasn’t been doing that just fine already.)

And, mark his words, this is gonna be a midnight showing that they won’t forget.