A/N: This is based off of the theory that Red became in control of the puppets' world after Roy. While this isn't the first fanfic I've written, it is the first one I've decided to post online, and any advice or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!
After Red pulled the plug, there was a brilliant and blinding white flash.
When he could see again, he was back in front of the machine.
Roy was gone. The terrified screams of his son and the broken music of the teachers had left with him. In its place was an eerily familiar tune, and when Red looked up at the screen his heart skipped a beat.
The machine displayed an almost barren room that looked very similar to his old kitchen, save for the walls' green tint and a strange new door.
The only noticeable piece of furniture was a clothed table in the middle of the room. The Sketchbook was on top of it, singing about creativity. What truly caught his attention though were the three puppets who sat around the table, listening to the lesson.
The trio looked just like him and his friends, but their colors were different.
His copy was a wonderful shade of blue, Yellow's was green, and Duck's was red. It took him a few moments to realize that this new trio were their favorite colors, and when he did he wasn't sure how to feel.
Were these three just plucked out from another reality, abducted because of their looks? Or were they specifically made as replacements? They didn't appear distressed though, and were even joining in the lesson with much gusto.
The Sketchbook was different too, now that he looked at it closer. It seemed much friendlier with its brighter colors and crossed eyes.
Red looked away from the machine and into the inky void surrounding it. He called out for his friends, his coworkers, even for Roy and the teachers, but the only sound that answered him back was the muffled music from the lesson.
He had hoped that somehow his friends, or at least Yellow, would've ended up with him, but that clearly wasn't the case.
He considered running out into the darkness, blindly stumbling around for any other signs of life, but decided against it. He doubted he'd get anywhere other than lost, and what help would he be to his friends then? Besides, he felt compelled to stay with the strange machine for some odd reason, to see how things would turn out for the new students.
Red turned back and stared intently at the screen, watching for any signs of the original Yellow and Duck, but none came.
He doesn't know what happened to his two small friends. He hopes they got out safe, but a small voice in the back of his brain keeps insisting otherwise.
Red chooses not to listen to it.
Instead he focuses his attention on the background, and then the calendar.
It's not June nineteenth anymore, and that bothers him more than he'd care to admit. Red couldn't remember it ever not being that day in their falsely saccharine world. Every calendar and television schedule and whatever assortment of numbers always proclaimed that date, no matter the season.
Despite this repetition though the trio knew that certain June nineteenths were special. One was always dedicated to celebrating Yellow's birth, and another was the anniversary of when they moved in together.
How they knew these particular days were special had been a mystery, it was just something that came to them naturally, as if it had almost been programmed into their very being.
Red now suspected that was the case.
It wasn't until he got thrown into the drab world of business did he see anything different. Even though the date started to change, every day now felt the same; boring, empty, and oh so very lonely.
He missed the bright colors, the obnoxious songs, the adventure, but most of all he missed his friends.
And seeing these new students, enjoying the lesson and each other's company, did nothing to help alleviate that loneliness.
Red flinched as an obnoxiously cheery voice sang out, "C'mon guys, let's get creative!"
Memories of frantic dancing and a cake filled with gore flashed through his mind. Not again. He couldn't let it happen again.
He gazed down at the keyboard and hovered a finger over it uncertainly. He wasn't about to start smashing random buttons once more, not when it made everything go incredibly wrong. That was the exact sort of thing he was trying to stop. But still, he had to do something.
Red pushed a key.
An array of knives suddenly appeared in the kitchen, hanging from a rack on the wall.
The Sketchbook's voice faltered, and Red could've sworn he saw a flash of fear in its eyes. It continued to sing however, and laid out an assortment of crafts for the puppets to work on. They happily complied and began to build little figurines. The object teacher urged them on, clapping its small black hands in delight.
Sure, the lesson had gone surprisingly well so far, but it was bound to go wrong if he let it continue. They would get tortured and traumatized if he left them alone.
They needed his help. They needed him.
Red pushed a few more buttons, and the background changed even more. The fridge zapped into the corner, a bowl materialized on the floor, and the clear sunny day that could be seen through the window grew stormy.
The Sketchbook had stopped clapping by this point and its smile had become forced. The puppets were too immersed in their art to notice that or the sudden changes in their setting though, and continued on in ignorant glee.
Soon the blue guy stopped and held up his craft proudly. "It's done!"
"That was wonderful, friends! Now let's all agree to get creative again!" With that the Sketchbook flipped over and closed itself.
The trio cheered, but trailed off when they realized how much the room had changed.
The green boy frowned and cowered in his seat. "What happened? Did she do that?" He pointed towards the now inanimate object.
The crimson bird reached out towards the Sketchbook and lifted the cover, but instead of a smiling face he was only greeted with blank pages.
Red was as lost as them at first. He only wanted to end the song before they were hurt. Now that it was over he didn't know what to do, but then it clicked.
There was a door. They could leave.
Red pressed a few more buttons uncertainly, and then the door began to slowly creak open.
The three puppets turned towards the noise, confusion evident on their features as they watched the door move without any of their help.
"Is it gonna sing too?" The bird asked.
The blue copy started to stand up, but quickly sat back down when the green boy let out a cry.
"No! We don't know where it goes. We should just stay here until she comes back," he said with a huff. Despite the gruffness of his tone, he curled up further into the seat.
That wouldn't do. They had to leave. If they stayed the objects would lie to them, hurting them as they taught the trio everything wrong.
Red slowly pressed more of the keys, and various items teleported into the kitchen. It now looked almost exactly like the old one. The screen became snowy for a split second, and the three puppets cried out in fear.
"That's it, we're leaving!" The bird smashed his feathered fists into the table and jumped up, the other two following suite. As soon as he reached the door though he hesitated, and the blue guy was the one who grabbed it instead.
Red's hand hovered over the buttons as his blue copy cautiously opened the door the rest of the way.
This time things would be better. He'd make sure of it.