Chapter 9: Nocturnal Me

Foxy woke up to the sounds of tools on metal, and a powerful slamming sound that seemed to endlessly assault his hearing. Barely conscious, he lifted his head, hardly managing to open his eyes to gather his surroundings. The first thing he saw was an owl tinkering around with his body, again.

"Wuh… what's happening?" the vulpine groggily muttered.

Horton's attention snapped to Foxy, quickly scooting his chair over towards the head of the table.

"Oh thank goodness, you're alive!"

Foxy squinted at him, a little put off. "...Why wouldn't I be?"

The owl simply stared at him through his reflective black goggles.

"Uh… how are you feeling exactly?"

"I'm…" he paused, suddenly realizing that the terrible pounding he heard wasn't any of Argos' or Horton's machinery, but his own head. "Well, now that ye mention it, awful. My head feels like it's going to burst," Foxy answered, gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Your head? That's what hurts the most?"

"Aye, is that bad?"

Horton scratched his neck, "Well I suppose it makes sense, you did get thrown around quite a bit-"

Foxy raised a brow at that.

"-I just expected your legs to hurt more. Well, what's left of them."

"Why would my legs- Oh. Oh yeah."

"How in the blazes did you forget that?!"

"Mate, please, I just woke up."

Horton sighed, sounding more relieved than annoyed as he broke into a light chuckle.

"Just lie down, I need to do a lot of repairs and adjustments to get your connectors working properly before we attach your new legs."

"Hold on, new legs?"

"Yes. What, did you plan on crawling to your next fight?"

"But how-"

"Foxy, you won. We got some scrap. We'll need way more to replace your body, but there's plenty to replace your legs with."

Foxy stared at Horton for a moment, his gaze then shifting to the ceiling as he laid his head down.

"...Are you alright Foxy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I… I just can't believe this whole plan might actually work."

Horton shifted his seat back to the end of the table, leaning over Foxy's leg stumps and bringing his tools back out.

"It does feel nice for something to work out for once."

"Ye can say that again."

"It does feel nice for something- oh, that was an expression, wasn't it."

"Aye, it was," Foxy chuckled.

Horton worked away at Foxy's legs, occasionally scooting up to mess with the internals inside the vulpine's chest when something didn't seem to work right. As time passed, Foxy could already feel his body feeling a little better, a little less strained, and a little more responsive.

After an hour longer, Foxy's body was back to the state it was in before his first fight, save for the missing legs. Horton was back at the end of the table, adjusting and fixing every little connection that would soon be plugged into his new legs. It stung though; every so often he'd feel a sharp pain run up the nonexistent limb.

Foxy gritted his teeth, sucking in air at the sudden pain once again.

"Ye don't suppose I could be asleep for this part?" He asked, more pained than annoyed.

"Unfortunately not, if you aren't conscious then I can't test your connectors responsiveness to the stimuli it's supposed to receive when your legs are attached. It's going to be different from your current model, so I have to prepare you for compatibility."

"Horton, please."

"Your new legs work differently, you need to be awake so I can make sure you can actually use them."

"Thank you."

"I do apologize for the pain it's causing though."

"Eh, it's fine. Nothing compared to getting hit by that bull."

Horton stifled a chuckle, "I can only imagine. He sent you flying like a bird, a scrawny, dying bird."

"Was it really that funny?"

"At the moment? I was absolutely horrified. In hindsight? It was hilarious."

Foxy groaned out of embarrassment, cringing at the scene playing out in his imagination.

"Well, here's to hoping the crowd can still take me seriously after that."

"After your little stunt? I don't think they'll even remember you getting hit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Horton paused for a moment, lifting his goggles up and looking Foxy in the eyes.

"You stood your ground while crippled and half-dead, being charged at, and you won. You gutted him in front of the entire audience. I know you were barely conscious by that point, but Foxy, the crowd loved it. As far as first impressions go I think this was the best we could've hoped for."

Foxy paused, his mind was still foggy from having just woken up after taking such a beating, but he did remember doing that. Hearing the metal screech when he tore the bull open like a can opener, and feeling all the oil that spilled out over him.

As he remembered that, the vulpine glanced at his remaining fur. It was definitely a bit dirty, a few spots more than others, but he was relatively clean considering he had essentially been in a robotic blood shower. Before he even opened his mouth to ask when they cleaned him up, his question was answered as his eyes found a pile of dirty rags piled in the corner of the room, right by Horton's now missing door.

"You really think they're just gonna forget the rest though?" Foxy asked, returning his attention to the owl in front of him.

"Of course they'll forget," Horton scoffed, "They're a crowd. Forgetting things is what they do best."

The way Horton said that caught Foxy off guard. That might've been the most snide he'd ever heard the owl sound. With that surprisingly pessimistic remark hanging in the air, Horton returned his focus to working on getting Foxy's legs ready.

A short while passed before Foxy spoke again.

"So why fighting?"

"Could you elaborate what exactly you mean by that?" Horton said, glancing up at Foxy, but still focusing his attention to his work.

"I get people fighting because that Spring Bonnie guy says so, but… why?"

Horton twitched.

"When this place was first being established, I mean in the most early state of its creation, there wasn't a whole lot of scrap to go around. So people got into fights; a lot, at that. Spring Bonnie took note, and encouraged it as much as possible. It wasn't even that long until we had plenty of scrap, but people still kept getting into fights, and so he began organizing them."

"So he made it this way because he liked watching it?"

"That was certainly an element of it, but no. The reason he did it was that it kept people distracted," the owl seethed.

"So he's just a rotten bastard then," Foxy said, rolling his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"More than that, he's obsessed with power."

"Clearly."

"He wasn't always like this, you know. At least… not this bad."

"So what was he like before then? A slightly less evil bastard?"

"I… don't actually know for certain. Marty was the one who knew him personally, not me. But, for whatever reason, he feels an absolute need to be at the top of everything no matter what. So that's what the fighting is for, a distraction."

"It's hard to realize someone's manipulating you if you're too busy trying to survive," Horton finished.

Well, that certainly answered the question. Foxy felt a bit awkward, like he had made Horton remember something he didn't want to.

"So what am I getting for new legs?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Well," the owl replied, "they'll be easier to move but just as strong."

Foxy's ear perked up.

"How much easier?"

Horton picked up a sheet of paper that had a blueprint of the legs scribbled onto them and handed it to Foxy. The vulpine read over it as his 'surgeon' continued working on getting his stubs mended and ready to receive the new limbs.

The replacement legs took on a polygonal, grid-like structure made of quads broken into triangles, however they retained the same overall shape of his old ones. Apparently whatever scrap they had received was an ideal metal to be melted and used, since it still had the same strength despite the reduced weight.

After Horton had gotten everything ready, Argos finally emerged from the workshop, carrying two long metal objects wrapped in an old towel.

"Mind giving me those," Foxy joked. "I can't stand laying on this table all day."

Argos stared at the vulpine in dead silence. "One more pun like that and I might just turn these back into a puddle of molten metal."

Foxy smirked as the lizard set the legs down on the table next to him, before wondering why Argos was handing him the towel.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Argos was busy attaching a couple of motors and snaking some tubing around the inside of the metal mesh.

"You know how I said you're going to have to be awake," Horton asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Get ready to bite down on it. Your body isn't going to know what to do with the legs at first, so it's gonna hurt. A lot," Argos cut in.

The vulpine felt Horton's gloved fingers twisting and pulling on the wires in his thigh, sleeving some shielding over the connections and pulling the stopper off of his coolant line.

The owl held his thumb over the open hose, looking to his patient for the go-ahead.

"We'll need to do them one at a time, with a few seconds in between for them to adjust."

Foxy just pursed his lips, before stuffing the rolled up towel into his jaw.

"Just get it over with," he mumbled.

Horton lined up the leg with Foxy's stump, wires on each end completely exposed.

"On 3. 1…"

Horton rested the two coolant connections between his thumb. One quick press-fit of the rubber hose on a barb should hold well enough.

"2…"

Argos got his hands in the mess of wires as well, picking up the first two spade-like connectors.

"3."

Horton shoved the hose onto the fitting.

In an instant, Foxy felt all of his fluids rushing down into the empty space of his new leg. It felt like one excruciating charlie-horse shooting through the limb, like his veins were about to pull his joint in on itself.

His jaw clamped down on the rag so hard he could feel his teeth cutting through it like a serrated knife through tissue paper. His pained howl reverberated throughout the room, probably loud enough to reach the arena.

At the same time, Argos began plugging the color-coded wires together, fumbling with the metal tabs in his large hands. Horton quickly picked up the slack, grabbing the rest of the connectors and nearly cutting his fingers with how hard he pressed them together.

With each new connection the pain only grew stronger, adding more sensors to realize more pain with. Foxy gripped the table, trying to keep himself still as he felt every possible urge to flail his leg like a fish above an open flame.

With the last connector, Horton aligned the leg with the connection at the stump and locked it into place. A series of screws came soon after, tightly securing the limb.

In a single moment, all the pain flushed out from Foxy's body. He dropped flat on the table, panting as he spat out the shredded scraps of the rag from his mouth.

"Fuckin' hell…"

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, all recovering from the most intense 30 seconds of their life. Foxy, finally feeling decent enough to move, grabbed the remains of Argos' rag.

"Uh, sorry about your towel."

"Don't be. Sorry 'bout the pain."

"Yeah…"

Another short moment of quiet passed between them all. Argos excused himself and walked back down into the workshop.

Horton let out a sigh, "Alright, now for the other leg."

Foxy groaned, running a hand over his muzzle.

"Shit..."

The lizard returned with a new towel, and Foxy repeated the process of rolling it up and putting it between his sharp teeth.

Horton grabbed the coolant hose stemming from Foxy's leg-hole and handed the end to Argos.

"I'll tackle the wiring this time."

Once again, the same painful sensation shot down Foxy's leg as Horton and Argos got to work connecting his sensors again. This time, they were much faster, though that realization was lost on Foxy as it was all the same to him, his leg feeling like its joint was going to pull so tight it'd rip right out of his leg's shell.

With the last sensor attached, the pain washed out from his body again. He spat out the shreds of another towel, breathing heavily as he calmed down again.

"We're gonna need to find you something better to bite down on next time."

Foxy snapped his head to Argos.

"Next time?"

"Now now," Horton interrupted, "if everything goes according to plan, next time he won't need new motors or sensors. He won't need to be awake for such a thing, hell knows what kind of pain he'd experience if that were the case."

"Or if he'd be able to stay awake to feel it," the lizard remarked.

Foxy let a deep sigh tear from his snout as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"So now what?"

"Now we'll all be going to sleep because I was this close to breaking something out of exhaustion," Horton said as he pinched his fingers together.

"Well that's reassuring… Wait, how long was I out before this?"

"Fourteen hours, thirty-six minutes and... fifteen seconds," the bird replied.

"New record," Argos joked.

"And yet I still feel tired. I'll be damned," Foxy groaned.

"Well, we did just painfully reattach two entire legs to your body."

Argos stepped forward, putting his arm under and around Foxy.

"Come on, let's get you up."

"Hey, I've got proper legs now, you don't need to-" Foxy already stumbled only seconds after touching his first leg to the floor. "Okay, okay, yeah, you can help."

"You're gonna need a few hours or so to get used to the legs, don't push yourself so much. For now, you'll just need sleep." Horton explained, mumbling slightly as he got up from his desk, clearly on the verge of falling asleep.

"Hey, you don't get to push it either," Argos said.

"I'm an owl, Argos, I'll be fine staying up at night a little."

"You're an animatronic owl, and you haven't slept since the night before you started making his hook. How long has it been?"

"-A little under forty-one hours," he replied out of instinct.

"You need sleep."

"I could say the same to you, you've been awake as long as I have."

"...Don't worry about it."

"Argos-"

"How about," Foxy interrupted, "we all get some sleep, alright?"

The three of them were silent for a second before mumbling agreements all at once.

The two metalworkers began helping Foxy walk slowly out of the room, carrying him the same as they did before when they brought him all the way back from the arena. This time it was far easier with him conscious, and actually making an effort to walk.

"I'm beginning to regret giving you the attic of all spots as a place to sleep." Horton grunted.

Foxy was trying to put as much of his weight onto his legs as he could handle, lightening the load for the mechanics holding him up. He struggled as he did, each step making him wince and shift his weight back on the others. His legs felt painfully weak, and outrageously sensitive.

"It wouldn't be so bad if I could just walk, are you sure you put these on right?"

"Have they not adjusted to your weight?" Horton asked.

"No."

"Then yes."

Finally getting up just one flight of stairs, they moved into a room that was primarily used as storage, given the many empty racks lining the walls. Except for the occasional dusty screw or spare bolt, the shelves were all barren. It also appeared to be some sort of workspace, given the large table in the middle of the room with tools scattered on it as well as the hempen sack Foxy's winnings were in. It now held barely a quarter of the scrap metal it did the previous day.

"Why didn't you fix me up in here?"

"Like hell we were carrying you up two flights of stairs after bringing all the way home…" Horton trailed off, his eyes stuck on the scrap metal on the table.

"Argos, does it look like there's less metal in that sack than there was before?"

Argos froze for a split second, "Oh, I needed more metal than I expected for the legs… if that's what you're asking."

"Huh… are you sure? I could've sworn my schematics had it all figured out-"

"Horton, we've both been awake too long, I'm sure we just miscounted."

The owl continued staring at the table for a bit longer. Argos was visibly getting antsy now, something really seemed to be bothering him. Foxy brushed it off as having to hold up his weight while not getting any closer to their destination.

"...You're probably right."

They continued carrying Foxy up the last flight of steps, carefully heaving him over the last few steps before laying him on the small mat he slept on. The attic was much smaller than the rest of the rooms, though still plenty for him, despite the low ceiling. The only things in it were a mat to sleep on right by the window overlooking the Hellmouth, and a couple books Horton offered him to read in his spare time. It was definitely minimal living, but that's all he really needed.

"I'm gonna head down now, I need to sleep." Argos said, leaving the attic as quickly as he entered.

"He's got the right idea, we all need rest right about now. Especially you Foxy," Horton explained, "Your body needs time to calibrate to your legs. By the time you wake up, you should be able to move on your own."

Foxy attempted moving his legs, barely managing to wiggle his left foot. "I hope so."

"I know so."

Horton paused, looking over the two books he had lent, laying by Foxy's side. One was a guide on introductory techniques for hand-to-hand combat. The other, a simple green hardcover book.

"...So you've actually been reading them? The books I mean."

"Oh, yeah. I have. The handbook helped with training a lot, I mean it saved my ass yesterday… but the poetry was nice too."

"Really?" Horton said, sounding pleasantly surprised, "I didn't take you as one for poetry."

"Why'd you give me the book then?"

"How else was I supposed to find out? From what little I know about you, I was surprised you could even read."

"'Course I can read!" The vulpine said, though it had dawned on him that Horton and Argos knew next to nothing about him. "...But yeah, I've never had a book before."

"You know, I can always lend you some more. I have one I think you'd like. It's a novel by the name of Treasure Island. It's about pirates."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that one," Foxy said, smiling a little.

"Well, I've been awake for over 41 consecutive hours. I could stand to get some rest."

"Right."

Horton began making his way down the steps.

"Horton?"

"Yes?" The owl said, turning to look at Foxy.

"Back when we first met, you said Marionette let you know about me… How much did he tell you exactly?"

Horton paused for a moment.

"When Marty came to tell me about the possibility of you coming here, it was the first time I had seen him in a long, long time. He told me he found someone, said he trusted you and that I could as well, and he sang some high praises about you."

Foxy didn't believe his ears. Of course he imagined Marionette cared and all, but to think he held the vulpine in such high regard… Foxy's mind pushed it all to the side, he didn't know how to process something like praise.

"After that fight," Horton continued, "I'm starting to see why he had so much respect for you. Though, I'd appreciate it if you would lay off the injuries for the time being. It's not exactly easy fixing you like this."

"Right, sorry."

"...Regardless, you did good Foxy. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, you too Horton."

'That was… pleasantly unfamiliar.'

Foxy couldn't remember the last time he had ever simply said a goodnight to someone. It felt weird to fixate on that, but with how long he had been alone, it was the little things that he appreciated having back the most.

The vulpine turned to the window outlooking the entire Hellmouth, trying to get comfy on the miniscule padding offered from his floor mat. The view certainly helped, as shitty as this place was, it still seemed almost like a home. Not quite, but more than before.

As he laid his head on the mat, his eyes studied the lights of the town below.

He stayed that way for all of ten seconds before his gaze jumped to a group roaming awfully close to the workshop.

It was a trio. One jade-blue lizard, a grey hawk, and a vixen colored a deep, dark crimson.

They were huddled together around something about the size of a small bag, glancing around in different directions as they made their way through the night.

The next morning, Foxy stretched his legs for what felt like the first time in ages. Groggy, he got up, stumbling from how quickly he was able to move onto his feet. Moving down the stairs was just as fast, almost a little too quick for his own liking.

Almost.

It was only when Foxy arrived at the bottom floor that he realized something.

His legs worked. They worked properly. Just like they did years ago, if not better. They had a protective outside again, they were lightweight, far more responsive than they had felt in years.

Foxy looked down at his legs, recognizing the faux fur encompassing them as the dirty pelt grafted from whatever was hanging off his thighs.

It looked like a hack-job, but at least it worked.

He gingerly brushed his finger against a leg, watching the metal appendage trail through each fiber rooted in his skin.

And he felt it.

He could feel the gentle pressure of his movement tickle against the fur of his leg, pinpointing its location down to the millimeter as he drew small shapes around his new legs. The vulpine watched in amazement as the fur held its shape after his finger crossed over, and the feeling of the hairs being shifted to one side sending tiny sparks up to his brain.

"I'll be damned," he mumbled.

"I'd rather you weren't, actually."

Horton was already downstairs, sitting on the couch with the most well-rested look on his face Foxy had seen on him since they first met.

"Gonna take a lot more than leg amputations to send me to Davy Jones' Locker," the fox joked.

"On that subject as well," he continued.

"I want you to spectate a match today. Maybe one or two, but at least enough for you to get a better feel for things."

Foxy shrugged.

"I don't see why not."

A/N: So, there's a few updates you'll want to know about.

First, the previous chapters have been updated! There's nothing too major that's changed, just touch-ups in phrasing and otherwise reworking things we weren't happy with. If reading into foreshadowing and little details is your thing, you may want to pay those earlier chapters a visit, but ultimately you should be fine either way.

Second, I recently broke my wrist. Because it's my dominant hand, and my cast is very restrictive, writing (among many other things) has become very difficult for me to physically do. Possible, but difficult. Long story short, updates may be delayed for the next couple chapters. I should be out of the cast by January and things will be back on track. Sorry, everyone.

» SpaceCat here. We've been giving access to the chapters a day early for our discord server, so if you wanna get in touch with us and read chapters early then come on in!

Anyways, I hope you all liked the chapter. Please leave a comment/review if you can!