Author's Notes: Man, it's felt like some time since I've touched Toontown or written anything for my old toon, Miss Fancy Petalbubble. Getting into Toontown Rewritten has reignited the spark I have for the world and my character, so I thought it would be the perfect time to dust off my favorite little toon and rewrite/update her story. I will be attempting to work on plot/pacing issues I had with my former attempt at the story, and possibly add more to it as well!
Rated T for a bit of violence, both toonish and non. I don't known Toontown, the Cogs or any of it.
Miss Fancy Petalbubble was an odd toon. Oh, she looked perfectly normal, by toon standards. A cat of average height, with fur the color of a blushing coral and dressed in an aqua blouse and skirt that went well with her sky colored eyes. Her paws were hidden beneath simple white socks and little black dress shoes, her hands clad in the standard white gloves. She, for all intents and purposes, looked normal. But it was beneath that cartoonish facade of hers that made her so...peculiar.
You see, she was fascinated by the cogs. Those tall, intimidating metal forms clad in dull, uncomfortable suits that knew how to turn a colorful world to grey and an equally colorful toon to green...she found them fascinating. While other toons like the researchers and professors, might've shared her interest, their ultimate desire with their research was what set them apart. Those that researched cogs, the well respected, well-learned types, only really wanted to learn how to make them blow up faster. Sure, they wanted to look into their factories and their buildings, but never did they question anything beyond 'Can we get rid of it?'
Miss Fancy, on the other hand, did not have such a short field of vision regarding her research. She wanted to look deeper, question things no others did, learn what no others bothered to. Did the cogs eat? Sleep? Did they have homes? Did they have lives outside of their business, or were they constantly working? Did they all have individual personalities, names, mindsets? Or were they all just mindless drones? She wanted to get in their heads, know what made them tick.
Her fascination started with simple questions such as those, questions no person who had studied cogs could give answers for. Then came the tinkering.
You know how battles work on the streets of Toontown? You initiate a battle with a cog, beat them, they explode. Well, the various bits and parts of them are left in piles along the street. Every toon is supposed to be responsible for cleaning up after their battles. A simple porta-hole to the recycling center and it's all well and good. Except not every toon goes with those guidelines. Safe to say, it's not all that difficult to gather parts and pieces to look over and study.
Miss Fancy had a knack for tinkering and dealing with machines. She would've happily ventured into the realms of helping to create new gadgets and gizmos for toons had her fascination for their corporate foes not gotten hold of her first. Now, as it was, where gadget designs and half-built machines might've lain strewn about her home, there were presently scraps and parts of cogs. Everything from cranial units, portions of endoskeletons and wiring, anything that made up a cog now splayed across the floors and shelves of her small two room house.
There, now, she was hunched over her desk, tired eyes squinting as she carefully threaded cloth together. Sewing was not her primary skill, by far, but she had been taking classes on her off hours. She needed to in order for this latest experiment to work out like she hoped it would. It was such agonizing work, trying to rebuild the cloth suits of her exploded foes. After all, explosions made finding the cloth without singe and scorch marks far harder of a hunt than finding the pieces and parts of a cog. She pulled the last of the thread through, tying it off and looking at her handiwork. It had taken time, but there it was. The jacket of the suit, the last piece of clothing she needed. A gloved fist rubbed at her eye as she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. Her arms stretched high over her head, standing on her tip toes as she uttered a squeaky meow, the ache of sitting too long was stretched out of her system. All at once, her arms slumped down and she sighed, collecting the jacket and bringing it over towards the form currently resting upon her couch.
As she saw it, her tinkering had reached its limitations. If she wanted to learn more, she would have to take the next step: Speaking to a cog outright. Attempting to casually stroll up to a cog on the street or at an HQ was moronic. The last thing she needed was the Toon Resistance getting suspicious and start sticking their noses (or beaks, in some cases) in her business. So, the only feasible option was to reassemble a cog right there in her home and attempt to communicate with it there. It was just as mad as walking up to one, but at least she wouldn't have other toons to worry about ratting her out.
It had been a relatively easy decision of what kind of cog to rebuild for the occasion. Bossbots were, as their name would imply, too bossy and would certainly not be willing to give anything when their primary goal was to take. Cashbots wouldn't do anything if the outcome wasn't going to be profitable. Lawbots were sticklers for the rules, and getting anything out of them would be challenging, if not downright impossible. So, that left the Sellbots, the deal-makers. Choosing which one of the models from this branch, however, was harder. It had to be something easily accessible, so it couldn't have been any of the top tier makes. She couldn't pick something on the lowest tiers, because she had to get someone with enough authority to reach through to higher-ups if she could get on civil terms with them. Ultimately, she chose the 'Mover & Shaker' model. Middle tier, had their own field offices so they obviously had plenty of sway in the corporate ladder.
Right now, the lifeless cog was just...sitting there on her couch. Mostly assembled and dressed, sporting that ever-unnerving smile that one could swear was permanent. She had considered finishing up the 'project' then. It would only be another hour, maybe two at most. Her eyes wandered to her window, watching as the sun out in the sky seemed to heave a yawn out of its faceless glowing form before it zipped down beneath the horizon. Moments later, the night sky dropped down like a drawn curtain, with the moon bouncing up and the stars flickering as they turned on. It was late. As reluctant as she was to leave her project alone with it so close to completion, she would've been better off being awake and alert when she powered it up for the first time. If not to fight it, then to have the reaction time to dive out of the way if it exploded. She looked the bot over one last time before sighing, front hunching over as she shuffled unenthusiastically off to bed.
Come morning, announced with the tweeting of birds and the familiar flute 'William Tell Overture' music that came from somewhere and nowhere all at once, the toonish feline was getting right to work. All wires were tucked, all bolts tightened, the battery charged, all the last minute touches and assembly done. She teleported briefly from the home after accomplishing everything, making sure her pockets were full of gags...just in case.
Cogs weren't designed to boot back up. Sure, they had their memory and their black box features and what have you. It was as if, in mid-production, they had stopped just shy of adding a restart button. She essentially had to manually jump start the cog back to life, with a little help from her pet electric amore eel. Who said electric pets weren't helpful?
The toon stumbled back as the robotic form spasmed, twitching as its systems started up and focused on making sure every component and piece of hardware was functioning properly. She watched with anxious anticipation as the slim form went still again...then she found herself staring at a pair of mix-matched eyes. Optic parts that were in decent condition were difficult to find, a matching pair was almost impossible. So a mixed pair of chestnut brown and steel blue eyes stared at her with blank confusion, the smile melting off of the robotic features and morphing to a tight lipped line. The Mover & Shaker's gaze briefly darted, a brief sweep taken of the location it found itself in. The various bits of associates and other corporate fellows were, understandably, enough to cause a look which she wasn't entirely sure if it was panic or anger. Perhaps both. It intensified once he realized he didn't have the usual armament of green-inducing gear that cogs had on their persons.
"Now, now, I didn't destroy any of these individuals. I merely salvaged these parts from the scraps left by other toons' battles." Miss Fancy began as the suit-clad robot unsteadily rose to his feet. "I'm researching, you see. Your kind are terribly ill understood by toons. We know very little about how you work or even why you are the way you are. I took it upon myself, for at least the advancement of my own education, to understand more about the cogs." She started to step back, and it began to move forward. She'd take a step back, and it would cover twice her steps with one good stride of its legs. She lifted her hands up, open and showing she had nothing in hand as she found herself with her back to her striped wall. "So I rebuilt you from all the various pieces and parts I could find in the hopes of...negotiating, perhaps coming to an arrangement."
That stopped the plaid suit wearing individual halt in its tracks. Miss Fancy looked up towards its face, noting the subtle twitch of the eyes as they focused on her, searching her for her intentions. She inwardly grinned, knowing she had to have hooked some small segment of interest with those magic words. "Please, sir? I would not have gone out of my way to rebuild someone like you if I was not wholly serious in my interest." It was a fair point, one that made the slender being of metal sink back onto the heels of its black business shoes as it considered the situation. "First of all, formalities are in order, yes? I am Miss Fancy Petalbubble, though you may refer to me as 'Miss Fancy' for the sake of saving time. Do you have a name to which I could refer to you by?" She offered a hand, extending towards it. The cog watched her warily, understandably perplexed by the situation it found itself in. And yet, one could swear there was a hint of curiosity behind those mechanical eyes.
The cool touch of metal seeped through her glove as her hand was grabbed and held in a firm handshake. "Miss Fancy, you may refer to me as 'Arthur'." There was a professional air to its...no, his voice. As if there would be anything but professionalism from a cog. "Though the circumstances of this meeting are peculiar, the fact you have reassembled me, though I use that term loosely, has warranted that I at least entertain your interest to negotiate."
Miss Fancy offered him a smile as he released her hand, hiding the fact she could feel a dull, aching pulse in her palm and fingers. The big metal businessman had a very strong-gripped handshake. "At least it's something. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arthur. Why don't we sit down and we'll have our discussion?" She swept her arm to gesture to the pair of chairs flanking either side of a table. "I apologize for this being very different from where you may be used to having meetings. But I am working with what resources I have available here." They took their seats, the little pink cat biting back a laugh at the sight of Arthur trying to sit comfortably in a chair made for much smaller creatures. At least it seemed capable of supporting the robot's weight.
She crossed her ankles as she sat politely across from him, smiling as she clasped her hands together. "So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? I want to learn more about the cogs. I want to learn as much as possible about them. Not in a 'learn about ways to turn you into zombies for games or blow you up' sort of way, but a...general way. I want to look behind the scenes, see how it all works."
"Why?" It was a simple, but sufficient question. The toon cocked her head, choosing her words carefully as she answered.
" Toontown is grand, full of zaniness and a controlled chaos that your sort absolutely detest. But we have one small snippet of common ground, toons and cogs: We detest change. Anything that is too far out of our little realms of normalcy are to be stamped out. I find it a wasted opportunity. We could learn so much. For as much as toons can whine and complain, your kind are incredibly efficient, hardworking and manage to keep everything running smoothly even despite our interference. While toons can keep going as well, we don't have as many 'big' targets for you all to attack that would cause us to need time to recover, as I'm sure you all have noticed. I find it fascinating. I want to do what few, if any other toons have attempted: I want to learn more about the cogs themselves. I want to understand your perspectives, understand how your corporate ladders work. I'd like to get the chance to see behind the scenes, as it were."
Arthur sat there, legs crossed and hands folded on his knees, back straight and tense in the sort of position you'd expect from any professional dealing with a meeting. "You're essentially requesting permission to see what the life of a cog is like." A slender brow quirked upwards.
"That's the gist of it."
"And what are you planning on offering in return for this opportunity?"
"You are talking to a toon who is willingly sitting here talking about wanting to make a deal with cogs. What do you think I could offer?" She was given a look. The feline's sky blue eyes rolled. "Information. I can give you information about the toons. Prime buildings to take over, best place to deal with the toons."
"Is that all?"
"I can give more if you can secure me enough time to do my research."
"How much time are you wanting?" Arthur inquired, his arms lifting and folding against his chest.
"A month." Her nose crinkled at the smirk on his face. "I'll give the cogs information on how to get into the central playground." Suddenly, she was the one smugly smirking. "What's the matter? Don't find that funny now?"
"..." Arthur leaned back in his chair, as much as he was able to considering its size. "I will have to obtain approval from my boss before I can agree to the terms. Which means I will need to return to HQ and set up a meeting with him. In fact, he may request meeting with you directly."
"And how do I know that you aren't going to just run off and not come back?" The Mover & Shaker's mouth opened to form a response, but promptly closed it when none came to him. He watched as the toon held up a finger, indicating to wait a moment as she rose from her chair and disappeared into the other room of her house. When she returned, she had paper and a pen in hand. A cog pen, commonly found amongst the junk heaps on the streets. She sank back into her seat and set them down on the table between them. "I want a written contract."
"Over terms that-"
"No. I want a contract dictating that if I let you go, you will arrange a meeting with your boss. If he requests to meet me directly, then you will notify me as soon as possible with what means you can manage. I want this contract to state that I will be under your protection when and if I have to attend this meeting. I am not to be greened by other cogs, nor am I to be captured. I will attend unarmed, and I will discuss my terms civilly. For the matters of my research regarding the cogs, if meeting me is a requirement by your boss, we will go over the terms again there and come to a decision then. If my request is declined, then I will be safely escorted out onto the nearest toon street and be allowed to walk away." She held out the pen expectantly, ignoring the way he looked at her as though she was saying the most preposterous things. "Arthur, I did rebuild you and bring you back from the dead. To put it bluntly: You owe me. and I do not have enough trust in you to think you won't walk me into a trap or not return. So, I'm covering all my bases by making sure you're contractually obligated to speak to me again. I figure it's the only way cogs may honor an agreement."
"..." Mix-matched eyes blinked owlishly at her, before he plucked the pen from her. "Color me impressed, Miss Fancy. It's surprising to hear a toon being so thorough and using such business practices." He began to write, writing mechanically clean and precise and yet still held the style of handwriting. It was simple and subtle, but the toon wore a tiny smile upon her muzzle as she watched him write. He handed it off to her after a point, and she carefully read over each little word printed. No fine print was going to be left overlooked. He signed first, with her urging, and she followed suit. "It seems our business, for the time being, is concluded."
"Indeed, it appears so. If you follow me, I'll show you out so you can start your return back to headquarters." Miss Fancy hopped up onto her feet, waiting until he had pulled himself free of the chair and tucked the contract carefully away in the inner pocket of his jacket before she led him to the door. "Watch your head." She warned, watching as the cog had to practically double over in order to fit through the door of her estate.
As he straightened up to his imposing height and smoothed out the wrinkles of his suit, he eyed the simple but colorful landscape around her home. "It was an...interesting experience talking to you, Miss Fancy. I will let you know what happens once I speak to the V.P."
"Alright. It was a pleasure meeting you, Arthur. Do not take too long in getting back to me, if you can." There was another painful handshake, and then there he went, flying away into the sky and off to Sellbot HQ. Miss Fancy stood there, watching until her eyes could no longer see him in the distance. With no sight of him, she let out a sigh and mumbled under her breath. "He better get back to me or I'll hunt him down and turn him into a heap of parts myself..."