HTF Origins: Flippy

Written by Flaky Ciel

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"A scarred, shattered soldier, his mind split into two opposites."

Flippy held his rifle to him closely as he ran, the sound of gunfire and explosions ripe in the air. He followed his allies, despite not knowing exactly where they were going as they ran through the forest, hoping they wouldn't spring any of the numerous traps. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" He yelled to himself. All three of them leapt into a clearing, a twinkle of hope in their eyes. But that all disappeared when they looked at all of the gun barrels pointing their way. That was it; they were surrounded.

As they were stripped of their guns and beaten down, Flippy lost consciousness. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…" Flippy repeated to himself. Flippy was merely a greenhorn fresh out of training before he got to that God-forsaken jungle. He graduated top of his class, an elite killing machine some would say. But the urge to kill wasn't in him.

He always remembered what his family had told him, about how killing was wrong, and a real soldier knew the price of opening fire before he pulled the trigger. His dad was a great military man, and a compassionate one. He was so proud to hear his son was going to fight for his country. He was a natural from the start, knowing how to handle a gun well, and a knife even better, having trained since childhood.

When he was young, Flippy was quite aggressive, often picking on the other children due to his superior physical attributes. But his parents soon taught him the error of his ways, and he grew into a kind, altruistic young man. His intrusive violent thoughts soon all but disappeared, and he decided that the only violence that he'd tolerate was to save others.

And he always knew that killing was a very wrong choice, unless the alternatives were exhausted. "Do not kill to save yourself." His father told him. "Kill so that you may survive, and save others." He took these words to heart, and they were his mantra throughout the war. "Even enemies deserve respect, and mercy." He remembered. It was only his third day out when he got to put those words to the test.

His squad of twelve was ambushed by a few guerilla fighters, and Flippy opened fire upon their attackers, wounding several. After the coast was clear, they had lost one man, and three wounded enemies were still in sight. Flippy kneeled down and tried to tend to the man's wounds, despite his screams of protest. His commanding officer, a tiger, came up behind him, furious. "Soldier, what the HELL are you doing!?"

"He's wounded. If we can patch up this leg we can save his life." Flippy responded. The tiger rolled his eyes and drew a pistol, placing a bullet squarely between the wounded man's eyes.

"And then he can stab us all in the back. Yeah, GREAT idea. What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you realize these men are out to KILL you?"

"That's no reason to not show any mercy, sir." Flippy protested, angry that he had just shot a defenseless man.

"They will not show you any mercy, Flip. I don't care if you're the top God-damn graduate, this is WAR, and you will follow MY orders! You are NOT to spare ANYONE, got that!?" The tiger roared.

"But sir-" Flippy was cut off.

"I don't think you understand war, son. You will do what it takes to survive! The point isn't to die for your country, it's to make these sorry sons-of-bitches die for theirs! Am I clear!?"

"Crystal, sir…" Flippy glared, before they moved on. Flippy's priorities couldn't be shaken, however, and still helped whenever he could. When the war had started, he was excited to try to protect his country from the seemingly soulless and evil folks that they were fighting against. However, his heart just sank when he got on the field, and witnessed the sheer desperation in their eyes. He wondered who the true "bad guys" were, if there were any. It was the first time he was unsure of his own morals.

When they finally joined the main fray their squad didn't last any time at all. Their group was shattered and all of the men scattered, Flippy running with three of his closer friends and trying to reform the group. However, fear caught them all, and soon they just were running for their lives. As they fought through the dense jungle, he could hear his CO's words ringing, and he could feel his natural aggression levels start rising again. He banished them all, as they told him to just murder everyone in the area. But he couldn't do that. It was only moments later when they were captured.

When he awoke he found himself in a small cell, with his friends in there with him. He was a POW then. He couldn't believe that it was happening to him. His captors were relentless as well, as the trio were routinely dragged out and tied up, forced into cages and then submerged shoulder-deep in water while the prison guards taunted and jeered at them, trying to extract information from them. But none of them knew anything.

The isolation, the sounds of airplanes and bombs, all of it was maddening. But what really got to them first was sheer hunger. His ally wasn't doing well, the worst of the three. His instincts told him that he had to eat, but the only thing there was to eat was… he couldn't even think of it. He banished the thoughts and continued to hope for a way out. Hope for someone to help them.

The hunger drove them all to the edge, as they constantly argued and lashed out at each other. The horrible pain in Flippy's stomache was starting to become too much to bear. "You have to eat something…" He heard a voice say. "Marcas… he's not gonna make it. It's what he would want."

"N-no… I can't…" Flippy said aloud, prompting both his friends to give him an odd look. "I couldn't…"

"You have to, it's the only way."

"Th-then I'll starve to death here…" Flippy said.

"You do what you must to survive…" He heard. "You're the strongest, and it's the survival of the fittest out here. You can kill them." He knew that he could kill them both, no sweat. It just wasn't in him. He couldn't. He closed his eyes, passing out from hunger pangs.

When he came to, he looked up at his friends. He couldn't take the hunger in his stomach anymore. With lust for food in his eyes, he got up and ran towards Joseph and Marcas, screaming. They both screamed back as he seized Marcas and snapped his neck, ending his life abruptly. Joseph was horrified that his best of friends could do such a thing, especially after Flippy had started consuming his friend's raw carcass.

No longer starving, Flippy's bloodlust ended, and he too was horrified. He backed up and puked up all of the food he had worked so hard to get. "How…. How!?" Joseph demanded. Flippy just looked up, shaken.

"Th-this wasn't me…. It… it couldn't have been me…" Flippy collapsed, raking his hands across the top of his head. His mind was spinning, unable to cope. He let out a deafening scream, and Joseph started to shake his shoulders, yelling back. Flippy suddenly stopped and seized his hand, and the last thing Joseph ever saw was Flippy's unnatural, horrific green eyes.

Flippy started to eat his fill again, this time with an almost sadistic glee. In order to survive, he had to learn to love the darker side of war. In order to keep himself alive, he had to learn to love to kill others. He wiped the blood from his face, Joseph's gnawed corpse being all that was left of him. Flippy heard the door to their cellblock open, and he dropped to the ground.

When the guards came in all they saw were three bodies. They ran inside to examine the damage. One guard nudged Flippy's form with his rifle, but it didn't stir. Satisfied that they were all dead, they all turned to give each other confused stares. Suddenly one felt his rifle move, as Flippy grabbed its barrel and slammed it backwards, caving his skull in with the butt of his own rifle. They all jumped to open fire, but hit the ground as Flippy was quicker on the draw. Flippy let out a deep-voiced, evil cackle. "Pathetic!" He cried, manically. He licked his chops again, contently. Soon enough, the whole prison was littered with bodies, and Flippy was armed to the teeth.

For 23 hours, Flippy became the angel of death on that battlefield, fighting his way back home. All manner of folk died in his wake, using whatever means available to end their lives and continue his own. He took sheer, sadistic glee in watching them all die, and tasting their flesh whenever he became hungry. He slowly made his way through the jungle, luring convoys of both sides into the traps he'd replicated throughout the area. When he finally got home, back to base camp, he collapsed, exhausted.

When he awoke, he found himself in the medical tent, being prepared to leave. He had several bullet wounds and was in terrible condition, but he didn't know how he'd got there. The last thing he remembered was Joseph shaking him, horrified. "Wh-where am I?" He asked, dazed.

"Safe." Said a soldier, nearby. "You fought hard, and long, but you're safe now."

"Fought..?" he asked, confused. He groaned in pain, and the medics gave him an injection that eased the pain. He collapsed into unconsciousness, his head spinning again. His dreams were filled with nightmarish images of whole-sale slaughter, and the cannibalizing of other animals.

Flippy continued to have these dreams, even after he had got back to his home town of Greenville. He was confused and distraught about the nightmares, not knowing how or where they were coming from. He was also dumbfounded when they gave him a medal of honor, and a large celebration in his honor for escaping such a difficult situation. His father was proud, but Flippy couldn't shake the nightmares. His father told him that he too had nightmares of war, and it was a burden he'd have to carry for a long time.

He never got used to it, though. One night, he woke from a particularly frightening dream. He splashed water on his face, trying to calm down. He was so sick of war already. The pride and honor that came from it would always remain, and he was proud of fighting for his beliefs, but he just couldn't take any more. He left his apartment, quietly going back to his parent's house on that cold winter's day. It had been almost three months since he got back from battle. In his absence, his country was victorious, and everything seemed to be doing well.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, walking along. He had a habit of wearing his beret, camo-jacket, and dog-tags, as a sign of honor, which tended to draw attention to him. A few kids wandering the side of the street started making machine-gun noises, inspired by his wardrobe. Flippy watched them wage pretend-war, and felt something deep inside him stir. He clutched his head, painfully, and suddenly blacked out.

When he woke up, he was restrained in a chair, with a bright light in his face. "Wh-what!?" He exclaimed.

"He's awake." A man out of sight noted. They shut the light off, revealing themselves to be in white coats and several armed guards were in the room.

"Who are you!? Why am I here? What is this place!?" He demanded. The two coat-wearers looked at each other, intrigued. "Well!?"

"You don't know?" One asked. Flippy shook his head, scared. "You're in Greenville Asylum… You're being restrained here for… murder."

"Murder!?" Flippy exclaimed.

"Show him the video." Another said. They twisted Flippy's chair, pointing him towards a monitor. It showed static, but one of the asylum doctors flipped a switch, starting the video. It showed an armed convoy going through a hallway with he himself in shackles, an eerie look in his eyes.

"I-I don't remember that." Flippy stated.

"Shh, keep watching." The lab-coat said. Flippy grudgingly obliged. Soon, the bear on the video had wriggled out of their grip and was throttling one of the guards with the chains on his wrists. Flippy watched in horror as he killed three more guards before they tranquilized him with darts and he was on the ground, asleep. The video ended.

"Th-that wasn't me…" Flippy almost begged.

"Yes, it was, I'm afraid. You killed two children, and this video was taken while you were en route here." He was told.

Flippy's eyes watered. "No! Not me, I couldn't have done something like that! There's just no way! It's impossible!"

"You might not have done it consciously…" The scientist said, "But you still committed these crimes, and we can't rule out the fact that you're acting right now."

"I'm no acting! I would never have done something like that!" He cried. But the proof was in front of him, as the video looped. He almost cried. Could those dreams have actually been flashbacks?

"Calm down, Flippy. We're going to help you…" The scientist told him. Flippy could tell by his voice his concern was for the research at hand rather than he himself. "We're going to do a test." They said, flipping another switch. The video was suddenly changed. A peaceful environment was displayed on the screen. Flippy sighed, soothed by the calming cartoon-drawn image of a flowery meadow with a unicorn grazing peacefully. He smiled, but suddenly another image flashed for a moment. He twitched, somehow knowing it was a gun.

This happened a few more times, with the images becoming more and more violent and for longer periods. Eventually actual footage from the war was shown. He cried and looked away, but they forced his head back towards the monitor. He felt his head spinning and suddenly everything went black again. When he opened his eyes again he was free, and everyone in the room was dead. He screamed, being coated with blood, and dropped the scalpel in his hand. "Oh my God… Oh my GOD! OH MY GOD!!!" He screamed. It was all true. He was a monster. He did the only thing he could think to do, run.

He got back home, somehow eluding sight. He splashed more water on his face, blathering. "No no no no no…" He cried, sobbing into the sink.

"Don't cry, you wuss." He heard a voice say. He looked up, seeing his reflection with those nightmarish eyes. "It's shit like this that landed us in trouble." It said, smiling.

Flippy's eyes narrowed with realization. "Who are you!?" He demanded.

"I'm you! Sorry, how rude. Hello, Me. It's Me again." It smiled.

"You're not me!" Flippy yelled back.

"I AM you! I'm the part of you who's willing to do what needs done! HAHAHA! And we're going to be together for a good… long time… As long as we live, in fact. And if I have my say, that'll be a while.

"No! This isn't happening!" He told it. It only laughed back.

"Yes it is, and it's beautiful! The splintered mind, the separation of will… and instinct…" Flippy tried to ignore it. "See? You were too WEAK to survive, so you had to create… me… And now you're US! HAHAA!"

"Well I don't need you anymore! So go away!" He cried.

"It's not that easy. I'm part of you too, and I'm here and I LIKE it here! I'm not going anywhere!" Flippy grabbed his head, horrified. He didn't know what to do. "And I have needs, needs you can't understand. I hope you're not social, because I will keep killing, and killing, and KILLING!"

"NOOOO!" Flippy screamed at him, breaking into a full run in the opposite direction, his reflection's manic laugh chasing him. He ran into his garage, flinging himself into his jeep and driving it forward, knocking the garage door clean off and taking off on the main freeway. He needed to get far, far away, until he could figure out what to do. He sighed, worried.

"You can't run from me." The reflection in the rear-view mirror told him. "We're mates now, you and I. We're stuck in the same body, we share the same being. You may be the dominant one, but the SECOND your subconscious thinks it might be in danger, the gates open RIGHT up for me!" Flippy ignored it, continuing to drive. He couldn't decide what to do. He figured that if he just kept on the road, he wouldn't run into anyone and thereby couldn't kill them.

Hours turned into days, his alter ego being mockingly cheerful the whole time. His focus was wavering, the lack of sleep getting to him. "Hey, you should pull over at this next stop." The evil being in the mirror told him.

"No." He said.

"C'mon, you need sleep, not to mention GAS." It said, correctly. Flippy sighed. He looked around him, and there was nothing but forest for miles. This was extremely far from any big city he'd ever heard of.

"Alright…" He said, defeated. He thanked his lucky stars that this was so far off the map. "It hardly looks like anyone's ever BEEN here." Flippy remarked.

"No doubt." His reflection said. Flippy looked at the overhead sign.

"Happy Tree Town." Flippy said, turning off of the empty road and towards the road under the sign. "It must be some quiet back-water town…" Flippy said, relieved. Only minutes later he was driving through the small, town, filled with natural-looking houses and a rather peaceful scenery. However, the next thing he knew it was morning, and his steering wheel was jammed around his neck.

He woozily got out of his jeep, amazed he had survived. He looked around, realizing that he was the center of quite a scene. Everyone was surrounding him, staring vacantly at the accident. He looked down at the yellow bunny they were talking about, realizing that he was underneath the wreckage of his jeep "Oh God…" He said, seeing the bloody carcass underneath his vehicle.

"Cuddles!!!" A pink chipmunk screamed, running to his body. Flippy grabbed his head, flashbacks flooding him as everyone surrounding him burst into chatter. He looked back at Cuddles's body, and everything went black. When he came to, everyone in the area was dead, again. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. The pink chipmunk somehow survived, hiding in a bush, quietly climbed out.

He looked up, horrified. "I-I'm so sorry…I… I didn't mean to…" He blubbered. She looked up at him.

"I-I'm giggles… What's you're name?" She asked.

"F-Flippy…" He said, still tearing. "I killed them all… I'm so sorry… I can't control it!"

"It's okay…" She said, smiling a little, but obviously still shaken.

He looked back at her, stunned, "It's okay!?" He asked, flabbergasted.

"Uhuh. You're a different person than you were a moment ago…" She said.

"Y-yeah… The other one lives… inside my head… When something reminds me of the war, I just lose it…"

"You flip out?" She asked, joking.

He was overwhelmed. "Y-yeah, I guess. But what do you mean everything's okay? They're all dead!"

"They'll be back." She said, nonchalantly. He just stared at her, disbelieving. "This place is cursed, Flippy… I'm sorry you had to come here." He just kept staring. "Well… in this place, when you die, you just… come back a few days later at that hospital." She said, pointing. "No one understands it, but you didn't cause any permanent damage."

Flippy flopped to his seat, overwhelmed. She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Well, you'd better get used to living here too. You can't leave. We've tried before, hundreds of times. There's no escaping it. There might even be more towns like this one connected in this world."

"S-So I have to live here?" He asked. She nodded.

"And if this is the real you, I'm sure we'd like to be your friends, too. Trust me, you seem great when you're not 'flipped out'." She said, laughing at her own pun. He nodded, understanding.

And she turned out to be right, as a few days later they DID come back, against all reason. Flippy couldn't understand it, even the day he died and came back himself. Trapped forever in that place, he thought, was going to be horrible. The rebirth process was horribly painful, and he'd force that pain on everyone every time he killed them. But, at least he had friends, and people who would understand his plight. And he'd have all the time in the world to cure himself of his other self, if it were possible… At least he still had his honor.

Flippy just stared at the mirror in his new bathroom, having bought a house recently: A nice hallowed out log. His hallways were already filling up with historic memorabilia, including medieval artifacts and other such things. His odd jobs paid pretty well, and his status as a veteran got him a check in the mail every month too, somehow. At least the land had a government, despite it being a little intangible.

His reflection stared back, smiling. "This is gonna be fun." It said, "Letting these people die over and over again. HAHAHA! Looks like the Devil finally got to Hell!"

"Yes, you did…" Flippy growled back, hatefully. He heard a knock at his door, and frustratingly opened it. His mood lifted when he realized it was Cuddles, Flaky, and Petunia at his door.

"Hey, Flippy! We were gonna play some hide 'n seek! Did you want to come?" He asked, excited.

"Yeah, sure!" He said, happily. Maybe, he thought, this could all turn out okay.

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(Notes: My take on how Flippy might have become how he is . I'm gonna make this a series, I think. Bear in mind these probably won't be in chronological order, or anything like that. I will try to make references to the first episodes they appear in though )