This is a fic I've decided to crosspost from AO3. It is extreeeemely AU! But I really enjoy this fic and the universe I've created. I have the first 10 or 11 chapters written already, but I'm only posting the introduction and first chapter here for now.
Pairings: Bonnie/Toy Bonnie main, Goldie/Spring secondary, Mike/Jeremy minor, hinted very minor negligible more-friendship-than-romantic Freddy/Toy Freddy, Foxy/Mangle, and Chica/Toy Chica. Also eventual hinted Shadow Freddy/Shadow Bonnie
Warnings: Original/Toy, homosexual relationships, normalized severe child abuse, somewhat depressive themes, hinted self-harm?, racial tension/racism?, violence, eventual sexual themes, problematic governments and ideologies, Mangle's gender never confirmed, Toy Bonnie and Toy Freddy are both under 18 (meaning there is a relationship with a minor, tho he's 17-ish at the time), sci-fi and survival elements, PLANET NAME PUNS, unpronounceable languages, generalizing years to all be the same as or similar to Earth's for simplicity purposes thx
Genre: Drama/Friendship/Adventure/Romance with sci-fi, somewhat-horror & survivalist elements
Disclaimer: I do not own FNaF or any related characters. They belong to Scott Cawthon.
Introduction
On a planet, far away and out of sight of Earth, a single sprawling city encompasses the entirety of the planet; sitting on the earth itself, sitting on the oceans, and even floating through the sky, the world was obviously a technological wonderland. A scientist's wet dream, if you would, with its sleek, tall skyscrapers of chrome and glass and its vast underground road systems and underwater tunnels.
It was populated by a race of rabbit-like creatures who had been exploring the universe around them for many thousands of years by that point- long before the modern people of earth developed and began to turn to the stars for answers. They, much as humans did, walked on two legs and had evolved opposable thumbs, allowing them to build things that their ancestors could have only ever dreamed. They were advanced and they were intelligent, and as long as they obeyed the rules, they were happy.
However, even in a world where the common person knew more than most scientists on Earth put together did, even this planet had its... geniuses. They were not rare, per se, but they were not common and they were highly desirable to have as your child.
This planet was not like Earth. They did not view children the way humans did. To them, children were meant to be molded into what their parents wanted them to be. To them, children were extensions of their parents. Their property, if you would. They began training and school the moment they were able to. By the time a child on this planet was two years old, they should know their basic maths and their alphabet. But, sometimes, there came a child who comprehended more than the basics at this tender age. Sometimes, there came a child who was unlike its peers. A child who knew more than they had any right to know or understand.
Such was the case in the home of General Commander Akrai Cator, sitting just outside the center of the Capital Square.
A tiny blue rabbit, sitting on the floor and playing with a supposed toy, looked up from his hologram as he heard footsteps approaching from the room next to his. He continued looking up, up, up until he could see the face of an adult rabbit woman. In her hands she held a holoscreen- a device that was made of two strange metallic rectangles that, when separated, formed a screen between. Kneeling down in front of the toddler, she pulled the top and bottom from each other, the holographic page spreading between the two bars. The child tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning over the numbers and symbols on the screen and frowning.
The equation made no sense to him.
"Bandi, tell us the answer to this equation," the woman commanded as another, unfamiliar rabbit came to a stop next to him, a strange device held in his hands. Bandi frowned at the screen and turned his eyes back to his hologram, lightly tapping on the shutdown icon so as not to waste its power source. It looked like this would take a bit.
"I can't solve it, mom," he answered once the hologram disappeared, leaving him with a small device no bigger than his toddler thumb.
"Just try it, Bandi," his mother pushed, and the small rabbit frowned and looked up at her, brows drawn together.
"But it can't be solved," he countered, shaking his head adamantly. "You can't divide kindar by tryvid, and the roklon makes the entire second half obsolete!"
The rabbit male standing next to his mother raised a brow, glancing down at his device. "Correct," he muttered. "Ma'am, you said your son is only two and a half?"
"Yes, sir," she said proudly, closing the holoscreen and tapping something on the side. When she opened it again, a new equation was on the page. "And this one, Bandi?"
Bandi looked at the holoscreen, a frown tugging at his lips. He could remember reading about this kind of equation in his mother's books, the ones kept in the library… "Isolate the variable and divide it by strev… multiply by kin and divide the answer by tryvid. Then multiply that by twenty-nine point seven, subtract four, and you get tryvid-eight dash one two six gar."
"Correct." The man sounded genuinely surprised, raising a brow at the child. Bandi tilted his head slightly, curious, as the man typed something into his strange device. What is he doing?
"One more, Bandi." He turned his gaze back to his mother as she opened the holoscreen again. Another, less familiar, equation was on the screen, but something didn't... look right…
"That's written wrong," he giggled, looking up at his mother. "If that was right then the whole planet would die, mom! According to the Akrias principle, that much pressure would crush an atom. You need to switch gar and tryvid around, and replace one with zero."
"Correct," the man announced. "Three for three advanced education equations at two years old. We'll take him in for extra testing, Ma'am Martel."
Bandi blinked owlishly and looked up at his beaming mother. "Testing?" he questioned, but neither adult answered him.
"That's wonderful!" the woman praised, smiling down at Bandi. "If he's confirmed, we'll begin all of the proper training right away." Bandi looked between the adults, his ears lowering. Training? He had a bad feeling in his stomach, but at that age he didn't understand dread. It was a foreign concept that would never be taught to the child.
"Thank you for your time. If you would get your son's most necessary belongings, we'll be on our way. He'll be back within the next three days."
At just two years old, as he watched his mother begin gathering his clothes together, Bandi suddenly felt like he had made a horrible mistake.
He jumped up and down excitedly in his room, strumming the strings on the strange, primitive thing his father had brought home from one of the colonies. At four years old, the instrument was too big for him to hold, but that didn't stop him from exploring it and learning everything he could about it.
It had no screens, no buttons, and no holograms, but it made the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It wasn't made of metal, but it was cool and smooth to the touch. It was the nicest-feeling thing he had ever touched. It wasn't silver or white or black but a deep colour that Bandi had never seen before- except when his father took him to see the oxygen factories, of course. It was the colour of the trees, but so much richer, purer, redder.
It was beautiful and his father had given it to him. He couldn't wait to be old enough to actually use it, and a wide smile broke out on his face at the thought of actually holding the instrument in his hands.
Chaska. That was what his father called it. It was a foreign word and it settled strangely, but deliciously, on his tongue. Chaska, from the colony Alpha C 301. They had nothing like it on Lapinia. He had no idea what the sounds it made could be called. He didn't even know what an instrument was, besides a scientific instrument used in experimentation or observation, but this definitely was not that.
Whatever it was, it was beautiful. More beautiful than any shiny chrome device he had ever held in his hand was.
Things weren't exactly good for Lapinian children, though… especially ones who are discovered to be young geniuses.
"You must question everything. Take nothing at face value, except the word of your authorities; your parents and your government. They know best, Bandi, you must never disobey them. Give them the respect they deserve."
"Investigate everything. You must know how everything works, or you will be ignorant. Ignorance is unacceptable. Ignorance gets you sent to the camps. Do you want to be sent to the camps, Bandi?"
"Sometimes our base instincts try to manifest themselves. We are evolved, Bandi. We are intelligent. We must ignore those primitive instincts. Physical attraction is obsolete, the Matching will provide you with your ideal mate. Pain is not real, it is simply a creation of the mind; we are intelligent and evolved, Bandi. Pain should not affect us. Sadness and anger are illogical, and we are not illogical creatures, Bandi."
Yes, there were many lessons Bandi learned, but the one he hated most was the lesson on pain.
His father held his wrists against the floor and had his other hand pressed firmly against Bandi's back so that he couldn't squirm. He was only five years old, and even he could tell that pain was not only in the mind. He could tell it was completely physical- nothing in the mind about that!
The knife sliding across his shoulder blades was agony, and he desperately bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut. If he made a single sound, it would only prolong the lesson.
"No reaction, Bandi," his mother hissed, pulling the blade away and watching the small rabbit tremble. "If you even so much as tremble during the government exam, your grade will drop. We don't take anything less than perfection, Bandi."
He felt tears in the corner of his eyes. He hoped neither his mother or father saw them. Tears only made things worse.
"We are intelligent and evolved. You are moreso. Pain is just an illusion. Stop crying, crying will get you an instant fail! Bandi, if you fail your pain endurance test, you'll be sent to camp. Do you want to be sent to camp? And if you fail it twice, you'll end up below. Do you want to go below, Bandi? Do you?"
Five years old, he failed his parents' test. It wasn't the first time, but it was the last time.
At least, it was the last time he actually failed.
He stared at the report on the holoscreen, his mother's angry face staring down at him. He was just seven years old and had had his first major class exam that year… and he felt horrified with himself. His previously untarnished record of perfection- gone.
"Ninety-eight percentage? What is the meaning of this, Bandi?!"
Bandi winced and looked at the ground. Ninety-eight percentage wasn't a bad score. In fact, it was good. Most of his classmates barely got seventy-three percentage… but when he tried to say so, it only made his mother angrier.
"You are not your classmates, Bandi! You are certified by the Government to be a genius! You should be getting one-hundred percentages! You should be making perfect scores on everything! You should be correcting the teacher, even. This- this is unacceptable!"
Bandi glanced up at his mother. He didn't cry, though he desperately wanted to. Crying wasn't logical.
He'd known she'd be angry the moment he found out he had missed that single question. It wasn't his fault it was worded strangely, but no one would listen to him.
His mother stared down, harsh and unforgiving. And then she said something that made his heart clench.
"I'm taking that stupid Chaska from you. It's obviously posing a distraction. I should have known better than to let such a worthless device into my house. Improve your grades and maybe you'll get it back."
He stared, wide-eyed, as she whirled around and marched into his bedroom. He did nothing to stop her, though.
After all, parents knew best, didn't they? He had to give them the respect they deserved.
"We believe your son would be more useful to the people of Lapinia if he is switched into a dual pathway."
"What dual pathway were you thinking, Chancellor?"
"I see you selected military pathway when he was born, but as of right now he has the highest scores in every division from every school level planet-wide. We believe he would be much better suited in the science pathway- but not just generic sciences. He seems to show an advanced knowledge of the ships your troops use, General Commander Cator. We believe a military-science pathway would be..."
Bandi frowned and quietly shut his bedroom door, leaning against the wall next to it and sliding down to the floor. He had turned eleven years old recently, but it didn't mean much anymore. He let his head fall against the wall and lightly stroked the wood of his Chaska sitting next to him. He wanted so badly to play it, but that would get his mother's attention and he'd get in trouble.
He enjoyed playing it, still. It was the only thing he enjoyed anymore; when he played it, he felt like the world surrounding him, restricting him, melted away. He felt like he wasn't Bandi Cator, certified genius son of the General Commander Akrai Cator and Doctor Aniya Martel. He felt like his own individual person. He felt like… like…
Like Blu.
He turned his gaze down to the instrument, feeling another emotion he had never learned the name of; longing. It was still beautiful no matter how damaged it had gotten in the last three or so years. It had been nearly an entire year before he managed to convince his mother to hand it back into his possession, but now he was only allowed to play it after dinner, when it was inappropriate to study.
Studying. That was all his life had become. School, study, endurance lessons, and sometimes he had time to play. I should have pretended to be an idiot.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like his heart hurt, but he shut the feeling out. It's only in your mind, Bandi. It's not real.
He didn't shed a single tear.
"Tell me what some of your interests are, Bandi."
He stared straight ahead with dull eyes, ignoring the agonizing pain shooting up and down his right arm as the scalpel carved deep lines into his hand and along his forearm. He knew such deep cuts would scar, even if they were treated immediately with the best, most advanced medical devices. There would simply be too much damage.
The rabbit sitting in front of him dragged the scalpel slowly, careful not to cause any irreversible damage but intensely studying Bandi's expression and posture. He kept his expression blank and his posture relaxed.
"I just enjoy technology," he answered flatly. It was a lie, of course. Truth be told, Bandi was sick of technology. He had begun to hate it years ago, long before he turned fifteen and had to take the dreaded Endurance Test. If technology all disappeared and every single person on Lapinia died, including himself, because they could not survive without it, he could not care less.
He'd welcome it, even.
"Just technology?"
Seven minutes and thirty three point twelve seconds, he noted silently to himself. "There's nothing else worth being interested in." Another lie, but he knew it was the answer they were waiting for. On Lapinia, technology was their life.
Not for Bandi. In fact, to Bandi… technology represented everything he hated. His government, his parents, his culture, his planet, and himself.
"Good, good," the government official murmured, and Bandi risked glancing down at his arm.
The blue fur was stained red and he could even see a drop collecting on his fingertip. His arm was completely relaxed, and he made sure not to tense it as he watched the blood drip down to the floor. Pain like this had stopped bothering him years ago. It was just another one of his parents' tests… but there had never been that much blood before.
Fascinating.
He almost smiled at the sight but he caught himself in time. Neutral, Bandi. Neutral.
"Tell me, how long have you been in this room, Bandi?"
"Eight minutes and forty-nine point seventy-eight seconds," he answered without hesitance.
"Hm, precise. Very well, you're done here. Send the next student in and head to the nurse's office."
Bandi didn't raise a brow as he turned to leave, despite it being his first instinct. The fact that they were sending him to a nurse despite the medical device sitting right behind the official told Bandi all he needed to know.
The Test was not over.
He kept his expression neutral, his eyes dull, despite the fact that he really wanted to scream and cry. Not from the pain- it definitely hurt but he could deal with that, it was only in his mind after all- but because everybody seemed perfectly okay with putting fifteen-year-olds through this every year.
What's the point of this anyway? Bandi wondered, opening the door with his uninjured hand. He did it simply so none of his blood got on the door. He stepped out into the hall, and every fifteen year old student turned to look at him. Dully, he called out, "Five seven nine," and then he turned and walked down the hall. He knew he was still being watched by a tester.
He remained neutral.
When he reached the nurse, he knocked and waited for permission to enter. The nurse turned to look at him and gestured him over, pulling out something that looked… very primitive, actually. I knew the test wasn't over.
"Hello, Bandi Cator," the nurse greeted, giving him a kind smile. "Let me patch up your hand."
He held his hand out without hesitance, noting as they raised a brow at the state of his arm. I guess they don't normally do that. He must have really wanted to make me crack. Joke's on him, mother and father have been doing worse than that for eight years now.
"Does this hurt?" the nurse asked as they held his hand. He watched boredly as the needle pierced his skin and pulled through, sewing the slices back together. Very primitive.
"Pain is only in the mind," he recited with no emotion. "It doesn't matter if it hurts. Pain isn't real."
He knew it was the answer they were looking for. He knew that when he got home, his parents would use a proper medikit after removing the thread from his skin. This method was outdated by at least eight hundred years, and Bandi could see they weren't even doing it correctly. I doubt you're actually a nurse.
"Good, good. Well then," the "nurse" sighed, washing the blood off of his arm. He was almost disappointed to see it go. Red is a really nice colour. "You're free to go. Head to the front desk to receive your score."
Bandi nodded and politely said, "Thank you, nurse." He turned around and walked out of the door, heading towards the front room where his parents, among others, were waiting. He walked up behind them and looked up at the holoboard above the round desk, frowning as the names were encoded and popped up on the screen for everyone to see.
Jaia Soln: 75% - PASS
Hilder Dit: 92% - EXCEEDS
Fen Carn: 26% - FAIL
Then his name popped up, and as he looked at the screen he felt no joy at all.
Bandi Cator- 100% - EXCEEDS
"Wonderful job, Bandi!" his father praised, beaming down at him.
"Come, let's get our download so we can put it on the wall," his mother added.
He watched as his parents headed towards the counter then his eyes trailed up to the board again. He got a perfect score again, but it didn't make him feel happy. In fact, it made him feel... disappointed. He… felt… angry, even. His parents were overjoyed, but he hated it. Why should he be happy? He got a perfect score in how to be an emotionless, unresponsive, obedient little robot. The perfect Lapinian, if you would. And around him, people were giving him congratulations on it.
Oh joy, while you celebrate I'm slowly dying inside.
But he couldn't think like that. Thoughts and feelings like that… well...
They were only in his mind.
Notes
*Chaska - Essentially a guitar, just a different language
I posted this as the introduction chapter so you can understand the irony of later chapters and just how much no one knows what goes on on Blu's planet
By the way, Bandi Cator is Toy Bonnie, in case you didn't catch that