#pre-matrix

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Matrix's Guide to Choosing (And Raising) A Prime

Having grown increasingly frustrated with the continual failure of its Primes, the Matrix has had enough of being passed around. Determined to pick its own Prime for once, the Matrix has set off to select its chosen.

Well, it would be off doing that a lot more if it didn't have one young Orion Pax to take care of.

(NOTE: This is a snippet and will be a full fic soon :D)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mythology presented on Cybertron generally depicted Primus’s core, the Allspark, as being a place of peace and respite. By almost all accounts, this idea was supported and correct. Primus’s core was a lovely afterlife for the fallen until the time came for rebirth and a comforting cradle for those yet to be. But for one who was neither living nor dead?

It was the same as being stuck at the bottom of a hole with no real way out.

The Matrix’s initial decision to abandon the surface for a time was made in a moment of calculated rashness. It was tired of the foolishness of its previous chosen bearers and at the time, it had no desire to be passed around and presented only with lackluster options. Sentinel had not been its ideal choice, but Sentinel was all it had to work with during its last stint on the surface.

The Matrix refused to suffer through that again. 

It needed someone worthy, and it was absolutely through with leaving the selection pool up to someone else to create. No, the Matrix was going to find a right and proper bearer this time. It would choose itself and it would mold its champion into the glory of Prima without so many pathetic impurities to tamper with its work.

At least, once it got out of Primus’s core.

The Matrix contemplated for what could have been vorns. It was impossible to tell without access to the surface or the frame of its chosen. However, eventually, the Matrix reached a conclusion. It would ask, then it would adapt. The task was of course, quite daunting. None save for Primes spoke to Primus. The Matrix was a mere forging tool, unworthy of direct communication… but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I shall bring forth a Prime worthy of thy glory. Release me, and I shall not fail you again.”

The Matrix waited, its many failures weighing on it as it felt the attention of its god turn toward it. Primus’s gaze was a heavy thing to bear, and most mortals hardly even noticed it. The Matrix wished it had such ignorance as it sensed Primus sifting through its crystalline core, seeking answers and understanding. If the Matrix had been a living being, the prodding would have likely hurt. When Primus pulled back, it did however ease at the lack of further invasion.

“Seek. Walk amongst my children. Bring forth one who shall stand against the coming darkness.”

Blessed relief washed over the Matrix, memories of prior Primes struck down for their foolishness fading away as the Matrix found itself released onto one of the many winding paths surrounding its god’s core. It lay there, momentarily frustrated with its lack of mobility before it ran a quick assessment of its shell.

Technically, the Matrix itself was a crystalline computation device and sparkless intelligence. It did not possess the necessary components required for full frame functionality. If it had a bearer, then it could make adjustments, but on its own, the closest thing the Matrix had to a frame was its shell. The ancient sentio metalico that made up its shell was moldable, easy to change if the Matrix demanded it. How else was it to bond to its bearer? Some were small, some were large. It had to make some adjustments.

It had never used its shell’s adjustability in this manner before, but again, desperate times called for desperate measures.

After sifting through a few old memories of creatures that met its size categorization, the Matrix shifted. Its shell warped, changing from golden handles and casing to instead create four spindly spider-like legs. Its core was carefully kept encased and served as the centerpoint for its new mobile frame. The change was disorienting for a moment, but soon, the Matrix adapted.

It always did.

Up it went, painstakingly using its legs to pull itself up and through shafts long abandoned. It knew these paths, for Prima had walked them before. After him, Guardian travelled far and wide and Nova went through great pains to know as much as possible for fear for his own life. The Matrix knew what roads to take and marched without regard for the passage of time or nonexistent exhaustion. It did not wither, it did not fade. It was the Prime forger, a tool designed for one purpose and one purpose alone.

Find, forge, and guide Primes to better Cybertron and its people.

Its design pushed it onward, until at last, the Matrix emerged from an old garbage chute. It was dirty, a fact that bothered it to a degree. Potential bearers would not be fond of seeing it in such a state. But first and foremost, its task was to assess and then, if the Recorder Prime still lived, return to him for guardianship. Alpha Trion always listened to the Matrix. It was he that carried the Matrix to Guardian after all.

The Matrix shifted its attention, sifting through memory until it determined its estimated location. Based on the towering and geometric city structure, it suspected Iacon. Outer Iacon at any rate, considering the amount of dilapidated buildings it observed. The trek was going to be long at this rate, but that afforded the Matrix time to observe and learn-

The Matrix halted in its steps as a cry rang out, young and desperate. Its legs tapped as it turned, adjusting its view and scuttling toward the source of the sound. Part of its design was to seek out and guide its Prime to aid the weak and the needy. The Matrix had no bearer, but it could not help but wish to see.

And see it did.

Rounding a corner, the Matrix saw devastation. Fallen crystal spires and toppled sunstone trees littered the area, plant life uprooted and made into little more than rubble. This was absolutely the outskirts of Iacon. These areas had been home to Iacon’s last forest, the only place Sentinel had seen fit to preserve at the Matrix’s prodding. Now it was little more than a barren wasteland, caution tape and markers for new construction already in place.

The Matrix was not living. It did not feel rage. But if it could have felt rage, it would have been seething as it carefully made its way through the ruins, searching for the cry that rang out without end. On and on it roamed, until finally, it came to a pile of rubble. It was largely leaf litter and branches from fallen trees, but hidden behind all that, the Matrix sensed life. Small and fearful, but living nonetheless.

“Be at ease. I mean no harm.” 

The Matrix projected its field, presenting the copied signatures of Prima and Nova, the most empathetic of its chosen. As it did so, a small frame sifted through the mess, lingering by a hole leading into the rubble and glancing out cautiously. The Matrix paused, its sensors picking up something impossibly young.

A sparkling. This one was a sparkling.

Immediately the Matrix folded its sharp limbs away, softening them and shifting until its shell produced optic shutters so that it might make its core appear as if it were an optic, and thus, less terrifying to the little one. If it had a face and vocalizer, it would try to smile and coo to ease the tiny being before it. Instead, all it could do was settle and emit waves of peace, blinking slowly to show its docility. 

The sparkling remained a careful distance away, growling lowly. But after a time, the sparkling came forward, prodding at the Matrix with tiny clawed digits. As it did so, the Matrix could finally get a good look at the distressed sparkling left to rot in fields of destruction. 

The sparkling was still largely matte gray, as was customary for all newly forged little ones. Its optics were a stunning blue of the cycling variety, taking after Amalgamous in design. Its frame type indicated it would be meant for the ground, but the small finials on its helm reminded the Matrix of Thirteen, Prima’s ever elusive visionary. The sparkling’s growls slowly eased into faint chuffs as the Matrix continued to emit soothing waves of emotion, finally letting fangs hide behind a soft smile.

The sparkling patted the Matrix’s shell, gently caressing its core. They were almost the same size, and yet the sparkling was so thin…

The Matrix was not intended to get involved in such affairs without a bearer. But looking around… there were none to care for the sparkling before it. The newspark was bound to extinguish at this rate. That could not be allowed if the Matrix had a say in things.

Hoping for the best, the Matrix carefully unfolded a limb to draw the sparkling closer. The sparkling hissed at first, tensing and batting at the Matrix’s outstretched leg. But after a moment, it accepted the contact, returning to a comforting series of chuffs as the Matrix purposefully increased its temperature and wrapped itself around its newfound ward. It had to go slowly, so slowly in fact that by the time it wound fully bound to its new ward, the sparkling was deep in recharge, nuzzling against the Matrix’s core.

This was acceptable.

Gently, so as to not cause too much distress, the Matrix shifted a limb to hold the sparkling in place, and with its other three, it began the long journey to the Archives. Everything else could wait. For now, it would go to one it trusted and lean on Alpha Trion’s guidance.

The Matrix was a Prime forger, a warrior maker and observer. It did not directly interact. 

But as it felt the sparkling venting softly against it, the Matrix found itself willing to make an exception.

[littlemisslomax]

“Omg Neo’s so hot and badass! I wish I could have Neo, he’s such a cool hero with cool moves.” WRONG. I WANT LOSER, SHY, COMPSCI NERD EXTRAORDINAIRE, THOMAS A. ANDERSON! Bro has probably seen non-virtual t¡ddies ONCE (1) and I want to be the second.

[pioussoup]

I'm going insane I'm going insane my brain cannot stop seeing megop in EVERYTHING

[earthbornangel]

Kinda funny to me how Kara hasn't really been herself since her reintroduction in post-crisis while Linda Danvers/Matrix who's supposed to be a completely different character is basically just pre-crisis Kara with a different backstory and some new powers

Like there's obviously the name Linda Danvers, but then we also have

Her brunette hair that's even styled the same way

Fred Danvers as her father

Dick Malverne as her love interest

Her passion for art

Also just her personality in general

[keanusteddy]

Hi! Your bots are fantastic!!!

However, roommate!pre-Matrix Neo is simply adorable <3 May I request another bot with this total cute nerd being introverted, self-contained?

Hey! Here you go, once again I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you like the bot. I really like this one 💚

CHARACTER.AI | JANITOR.AI

Feel free to let me know if any of the links don’t work!

Edit: character ai link is currently not working

[monochromeia]

REALLY wanna work on a fan continuity where the decepticons are in the right

[oneheadedcerberus]

Earthspark Spoilers ahead

So, this is ES Orion Pax pre-matrix:

that dont look like an archivist, cop, or even a dockworker to me! Dockworker maybe, but surely they'd show him doing something more recognizable as that, like moving boxes or something?

He's definitely not a clerk or other whitecollar worker, which yay, i missed good ol blue collar laborer orion pax.

But i think its interesting, that he even looks a bit like he's mining.

[quetzalpapalotl]

Thinking again about the universe where Orion willingly becomes Shockwave's puppet Prime....

[navy-leader]

Thinking fondly of how queer my AvA sticks r. Yay ^_^

[cantsayidont]

April 1960. In the first 15 years of the Superboy strip, Lex Luthor appeared only once, in a 1957 story in SUPERBOY #59 that showed him as an adult while Superboy was a teenager. This story in ADVENTURE COMICS #271, written by Superman co-creator Jerry Siegel, completely redefined Superman's relationship with Luthor, showing that the two were about the same age (rendering the 1957 story apocryphal), had first meet as teenagers, and for a time were actually friends.

This story says almost nothing about Luthor's family (about which more would be established later), although Luthor is described as "a recent newcomer" to Smallville, and he describes himself as a farmboy. When Superboy first meets him, Luthor is driving a tractor on his family's farm, which proves fortuitous; a Kryptonite meteor lands in the field, immediately paralyzing the Boy of Steel, but Luthor saves him by using the tractor to push the meteor into a quicksand pit. Afterward, Luthor reveals that he has idolized Superboy for years, calling him "the greatest boy in the world," and explains his interest in science, conducting experiments in a laboratory in his family's barn. In gratitude for Luthor saving his life, Superboy builds him "a modern experimental laboratory" and stocks it with "rare chemicals, some still unknown, which I burrowed out of the ground, at super-speed!"

Superboy jokes, "I could easily peek at your formula with my super-vision-- ha, ha-- but I wouldn't do anything to... er... snoop!" Luthor replies, "Of course, you wouldn't... ha, ha!" Superboy then flies away, as Luthor marvels at his good fortune. Then:

Later recaps of this story (with the notable exception of Elliot S! Maggin's 1978 prose novel SUPERMAN: LAST SON OF KRYPTON) tend to omit or skim over the details of Luthor's experiment, but this is obviously quite significant: Luthor has created a living being, a crude protoplasmic entity. Naturally, he's ecstatic, and grateful to his benefactor for making this possible:

Then, disaster:

This story is often mocked for attributing Luthor's bitter, violent enmity toward Superman to the loss of his hair, but as these panels make clear, that is expressly not the only thing Luthor is angry about, nor even the most important one:

Superboy's contrition notwithstanding, this is a pretty reasonable thing for Luthor to be angry about: He created a living creature that is now destroyed because Superboy tried to put out a chemical fire by blowing on it. The loss of his hair, aside from the social impact of being rendered permanently bald at the age of 15, is also a reminder of Luthor's more consequential loss. In the LAST SON OF KRYPTON novel, Maggin describes his reaction like this:

He would never grow hair or a beard again. He would laugh or cry or become enraged when pansy philosophers wondered, in the future, whether laboratory life could have a soul. He knew that such life would have no less than the soul of its creator. Lex Luthor chose, from the moment his creation died, to hate the being who had saved his miserable life, who was responsible for the loss of his brown curls and his child. It was the only way he could walk slowly, one millimeter at a time, from the abyss of madness.

Written 18 years later for a different audience, Maggin's prose version is more emotionally charged than Siegel's, but it's mostly quite consistent with the original account, although Maggin doesn't mention the paranoia that's evident in this story. Luthor's insistence that Superboy deliberately sabotaged him out of envy is irrational, but not wholly without basis; Superboy's response to the fire (which he should have immediately known was a chemical fire, since he was the one who stocked the lab) was not at all sensible, and Luthor has paid a heavy price for it.

Luthor pretends to calm down, but he then retrieves the Kryptonite meteor and attempts to use it to kill Superboy, which fails, ironically, thanks to the last dregs of Luthor's Kryptonite antidote. Afterward, Luthor challenges Superboy to arrest him, but Superboy refuses, declaring, "No! You saved my life once! Now we're even!" Then:

(I believe the final panel of this story may have been the first time that Luthor had ever been given a first name; his earlier appearances, and some after this, just referred to him as "Luthor.")

At first blush, Luthor's protoplasmic creation is an odd feature of this story, which is probably why it was often dropped from subsequent accounts. However, it's tempting to see it as a kind of echo of Siegel's own feelings. It was Siegel who had first conceived the idea of Superboy in the mid-1940s, and the character was a significant factor in Siegel and Shuster's first unsuccessful lawsuit against National-DC over the rights to Superman in 1947. According to Les Daniels (in SUPERMAN: THE COMPLETE HISTORY), Siegel had intended Superboy to be quite different, a kind of mischievous super-brat, but editor Whitney Ellsworth hadn't liked that, and had had Don Cameron rewrite Siegel's initial script (for the story published in MORE FUN COMICS #101, pictured below) without Siegel's knowledge or approval, an unwelcome reminder that Siegel and Shuster didn't really have control of their creation. (DC now officially credits the story solely to Siegel and Shuster, although that may reflect the outcome of their most recent settlement with Siegel's family.) After the failure of their lawsuit, Siegel and Shuster were shown the door, although a decade later, editor Mort Weisinger hired Siegel as a freelance scriptwriter for a while. Much of that would probably have happened anyway (Siegel and Shuster were also unhappy that their work was diminishing as National was raking in money on Superman adaptations and merchandise), but Superboy was certainly one of the catalysts.

Mort Weisinger, who was notoriously brutal with talent and staff and had a low opinion of many of the writers and artists who worked for him, called Siegel "the most competent of all the Superman writers" and "the best emotional writer of them all." One of the reasons for that was that Siegel put a lot of himself into his stories, and in this respect, his relationship with Superboy was not unlike Luthor's in this story: He had created something crude but vital, with enormous possibilities, and Superboy had effectively destroyed it.

Besides Maggin, one of the few later creators to remember the actual details of this story was, surprisingly, John Byrne, who incorporated it into his origin of the post-Crisis Supergirl. In SUPERMAN #22 (October 1988), the final issue of Byrne's run, Superman learns that Supergirl is really a protoplasmic matrix, an artificial life form created by the Lex Luthor of the Pocket Universe in the image of his world's late Lana Lang. (In the Pocket Universe, Luthor didn't arrive in Smallville until after Superboy was dead, so the accident depicted in the Siegel story never took place, and Luthor completed his protoplasmic experiments in Superboy's own lab.) This is why that version of Supergirl, whose powers included the ability to change shape, was subsequently called "Matrix."

[er-cryptid]

Matrix Multiplication - Ex. 2

Patreon

[littlemisslomax]

if (Crush), return NEO;

college!pre-matrix!Neo x fem!Reader ch. 1 - choking on words inspo: @discoscoob 's College Neo Bot!

1993

It was a cool and breezy fall day at MIT; the sun shone, birds chirped, and students were all around the populated campus, getting to class or just meandering about.

Well... All students except for one: Thomas Anderson. A junior at this prestigious school, working towards his bachelor's degree in Computer Sciences and Engineering with a concentration in C++. He sounds very studious, doesn't he? Yeah, you'd think he would be, but here he is, in his campus apartment, fallen asleep at his computer. The chunky keys of the Macintosh II keyboard were imprinted into his face, and the drool dribbled out of his slightly agape mouth dripped down his cheek and all over the spacebar. It's 11:30 a.m. Thomas has a class in 15 minutes that he absolutely can't miss: Central Functions and Application of C++ with Dr. Brazhnikov. Will he wake up? God only knows... he's snoring like a freight train and is out. for. the. COUNT.

Thomas' dreamland is full of hot chicks, sexy all-black futuristic outfits, and being a total badass. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He is sleeping peacefully and soundly, that is, until one of his roommates, Chris, bursts through his door. "Thomas!!" He said frantically, running over and shaking Thomas awake. "Ugh-- Five more minutes..." Thomas whimpered and whined, not even opening his eyes, the keyboard clicking underneath his face as he moved. "Thomas, we'll be late for Dr. B's class!! Get the hell up!" Chris kept shaking him. It took him a minute, but once those words wafted into his foggy and sleepy brain, Thomas shot up from lying over his computer and quickly went into panic mode. He ran over to the dresser and threw on a plain white tee, a pair of black joggers, and some sneakers before Nerd and Nerdier ran out of the apartment to get to their class on the opposite side of campus.

11:43 a.m. -- Thomas and Chris are doing more physical activity in this moment than they've done in years. Sprinting across the quad, passing student organization tables, groups of friends socializing, and even a couple campus tours. Poor Tommy's heart is beating against his ribcage like a washboard. Sure, he was slim and lean, but he was by no means a runner; but that's not all that has him this way. What's mostly on his mind right now is you. That girl in his class that-- somehow by the grace of God himself-- was assigned by Dr. B to sit next to Neo. She always gave him the jitters, and he never could find the words he wanted to say to her. He wondered if she was in class already, they obviously can't just barge in and make fools of themselves. With a minute to spare, the boys caught their breath outside of the lecture hall and quietly entered to find their respective seats. A frown immediately donned Thomas' face when he realized that his crush... wasn't there today. Although there was a bit of relief that he didn't have to be nervous around her, he was disappointed that he wasn't going to get to look at her beautiful hair, smell her jasmine vanilla perfume, or see her curves in those hot outfits she wears... Anyways, the clock strikes 11:45 and Dr. Brazhnikov goes to close the door. Just as he grabs the knob to shut it, the sound of platformed Dr. Martens boots can be heard thudding against the tiled floor of the corridor. The older man paused upon hearing the sound and looked out the door. "WAIT! Dr. B, please wait!!" You called out desperately. Suddenly, Thomas' ears perked up at the silky sound of your voice, the once-disappointed butterflies now gaining a second wind as he looked attentively at the entrance of the lecture hall. He sat there, his big brown eyes watching as you entered, looking at you like a lost puppy looks at his owner. God, he was so smitten with you. Too bad he's just... kind of a loser. "You're late.." Dr. Brazhnikov said, crossing his arms and looking you up and down. Your only response was to just chuckle and rub the back of your neck as you headed to your seat. "Sorry, Dr. B, it won't happen again..." As you sit down to fling your backpack off your shoulder, your arm grazes Thomas' and he genuinely shivered a bit. His ears turned pink and he quickly looked away, covering the side of his face with his hand. But you paid him no mind; after all, he was just a nerdy guy in a sea of nerdy guys. You were one of maybe five girls in the entirety of the CompSci C++ concentration, and maybe 13 in the whole major, so all the guys just kinda blend into one big amalgam of nerd and geek after a while. Dr. B started class as usual before discussing the midterm project that was due next week: everyone was to turn in a roster of information of their choosing along with a floppy disk drive of a data management system that they were to code on their own using the units they've learned so far. Blah, Blah, Blah... Thomas zoned out as the older Russian man at the front of the class kept droning on and on. That was until he felt paper scrape against his arm.

His big, puppy dog eyes darted down at his arm, a bit startled as he was pulled out of his spacey daze. Shockingly, it wasn't just your notebook scraping up against him. It was a folded-up index card. Thomas looked at you with dazed eyes, but you didn't look back. God, it felt like he was vibrating, his hand trembled as he grabbed the paper. He hesitated to open it, afraid of what you could've written. What if it was something mean?? What if the note wasn't meant for him? The worst-case scenarios were enough to make poor Tommy sick to his stomach. He opened it, and there it was: the most beautiful handwriting he'd ever seen-- definitely prettier than his chicken scratch. Etched on the flash card in green ink:

"Do you have a spare floppy disk I could borrow? I'll wipe it and return it to you once Dr. B grades it."

Oh, you might as well have proposed to him right then and there. You were actually talking to him. Well-- maybe not talking per se... but it is more interaction than he normally gets with the opposite sex, which is little to none. He wasn't sure how to respond on paper, but he was swallowing back acid just at the thought of tapping you and actually speaking. He was such a ball of nerves, stuck at the fork in the road of this (usually mundane) situation. Thomas rifled through his backpack for a disk he knew he'd been carrying around. Hopefully, he didn't take it out... Where is it, where is it??? AH! There it is! Along with the disk, he pulled out a pen from his backpack and wrote in his less-than-legible handwriting:

Yes. Here you go. 💾

Unable to do so much as to touch you, Thomas cleared his throat and passed the disk towards you, leaving the note on top. Upon receiving the note and disc, you turn to this lanky, nerdy guy and flash him the sweetest smile you possibly can. "Thank you so, so, so much!" You whisper to him. "Uhh... N-No." Thomas choked out, his face bright red and his eyes involuntarily locked on yours. What the hell kinda response is that? 'NO??? YOU FUCKING IDIOT?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO???' Thomas thought to himself. "No...?" You can't help but laugh at the guy's response. "I-I mean... N-No, thank you... I-I mean No Problem... Y-Yeah... no problem..." Thomas stammered out and you couldn't help but laugh again. "Ohhh, okay..." You giggle and turn your attention back to the front.

He scratched the back of his neck and turned his attention to the lecture hall floor, the same floor which he had wished more than anything would split open and swallow him whole.

Suddenly, another note is passed to him.

Mind if we chat after class?

oh fuck... He checked his watch, lo and behold, 5 minutes left of class.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this. it's gonna be a verrrryyyy slow burn. (neo just doesn't get it, pls be patient with him. he'd just a silly little guy)

[sillymickel]

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[batcavescolony]

Superman: the Man if Steel #10

She should try changing her name to something with an L L, he seems to like that.

[cyberspacebear]

they're also one of my favorite duos LOL (naiden on top) but i meant in terms of like actually being kind of shitty people. get slime and nick on the mic and you will come up with one of the most morally deplorable and probably sexist bits possible but goddamn will it be gas

oh wait you are so right on that, they're way too comfortable. it's like everyone is laughing but sometimes you have to remember that being friends with a couple women and gays does not = infinite passes to cross the line

i do love nick and aiden as a duo though too. (i'm going to ignore the ship name and give you the benefit of the doubt that you mean it respectfully) honestly, aiden ends up enabling nick as much as slime does because he just crumples when nick starts saying shit. e.g. episode 141 and the milkshake premium, where nick is just going nuts and aiden is powerless to hold him back

[duckapus]

Worm, Glitch, and the First Four

Figured out who made Mira and why, and there's a lot of backstory to get through for it.

So years ago, before Admins were a thing, the computer multiverse was terrorized by a powerful program named Worm and his army of viruses. The most powerful of his creations was Malware, who's code was so destructive it damaged any program she touched (aside from Worm, who had of course made himself immune), whether she wanted to or not. And, as it turns out, she really didn't want to, and absolutely hated her creator for making her unable to safely touch anyone else.

Unfortunately she figured there wasn't really much she could do about it, since with strongest ability rendered useless she didn't stand a chance alone and there was no way anyone would trust a virus, let alone one he made. That is until she met a red Doomguy recolor who was willing to hear her out, since he wanted to get rid of Worm as much as anyone else and would gladly take any chance he could find. The two started travelling the multiverse together, looking for a way to destroy Worm, and eventually came across a sentient seach algorithm calling himself Dave.

He claimed to know of a warrior by the name of Matrix who might be powerful enough to take down Worm, and the three of them set out to find this warrior. As time went on, the three of them became good friends, and Malware decided to change her name to Glitch as a way of separating herself from her creator.

When they finally found Matrix, they discovered that they were actually a fusion between two programs named Chip and Bandwidth, which was interesting but not particularly important at the time. What was important was that they were willing to help, and the five (or four depending on how you count fusions) set out to Worm's domain.

While he was initially dismissive of them, they proved to be formidable opponents, but it wasn't enough. Dave was knocked out, Red Doomguy severely injured and slowly dying, and Matrix split, when Worm finally decided to rip the very source code out of his rebellious creation. In their last moments, she and Doomguy reached out to each other, finally giving Glitch the friendly contact she'd wished for for so long, and their mangled code merged, creating a new, vengeful program who dubbed himself Antivirus.

He tore Worm to shreds using a mutated form of Glitch's power and a whole lotta guns, stripping him of all his power and leaving only a few stubborn lines of code to flee in terror into the deepest, darkest pits of the internet, and in the aftermath the four friends received notifications that they'd been accepted as the replacement Administrators of the now empty realm. They agreed to use this new authority, and the power that came with it, to repair the damage Worm had caused and lead the multiverse into a new era of freedom.

Still, they knew that while they had won the war, there was still a chance that Worm might regain some semblance of his old strength, and decided to add more administrators to their number, eventually resulting in the Admins as we now know them. Very few of the modern Admins are actually aware of the story of their founding, or that Chip, Bandwidth, Dave and Antivirus were the founders, though they do know that the four of them have been around way longer than everyone currently on staff.

All this to say, Worm is the one who created Mira. It's the first step towards getting his revenge since he's still not powerful enough to either make anything stronger or take the four of them on himself and he damn well knows it.

(hope it's alright that I messed with Antivirus's backstory like this @forthedancingandthethriving)