The Narrator had never been a particularly cruel individual. The textbook example of a narcissist, yes, but never utterly horrible. Though, once his plans had gone off track, he had no reason to hold back.

Instead of following the Narrator’s story, Stanley, instead, had decided to turn on the horrid systems that were meant to control him. What a foolish idea! He had never known Stanley to be an egomaniac.

“..After they kept you enslaved all those years, you go and you try to take control of the machine for yourself, is that what you wanted? Control?” The Narrator spoke in a bewildered tone, before a two minute timer appeared on the large monitors, ticking down. His tone grew darker— why did any of this matter, anymore?

“Foolish, you are! I thought I created you to be better than this. You see that timer on the screen? It’s not to keep the action going, oh no, it’s simply ticking down to your painful demise. I love watching you dart around, hoping anything will work.. it won’t. None of this will help you, Stanley.” He cackled a bit, shaking his head. He no longer felt in the littlest degree guilty for Stanley. The game would only restart, leaving them back together again, in the end.

That’s how it always was.