Mable: And I got it posted on Thursday!... After Midnight, I'll admit, but still finished. So, I'll keep this note brief. Especially since there's not much for me to say. I apologize if there's a few mistakes, because the chapter required an almost entire rewrite before posting, so I hope any there aren't too egregious. Anyway, I hope you Enjoy!
Almost Feels Like Home
Chapter Nine
"Foxy!" Jeremy called out through the window as he crawled down the highway in the direction of the theater. His eyes scanned the sides of the road frantically as he tried to search out the fox before someone else saw him. Mike's warning phone call had explained that Foxy ran into the desert, but he had almost made it to the theater and had still seen no sign of him. Not to mention that the theater was probably swarming with cops who would see him and question why he was prowling at night. Or worse, they would see Foxy running around.
In his panicked state Jeremy could already imagine them wheeling Foxy away into an evidence locker and them never getting him back. Or worse, labelling a threat and opening fire as Foxy sprinted around the parking lot. Then Dave would sneak out the back and be on the run, terrorizing other businesses-.
By this point, Jeremy was borderline hyperventilating. He looked out the rolled down passenger's window, then out his own, then called out again. "Foxy? Fox- Gabe!" Maybe using his real name would attract his attention. "Gabe? Gabriel!" Still nothing and Jeremy was starting to worry only more. He drove a bit faster as he closed in on the theater. He soon could see the distant lights and knew he was running out of time.
Then Jeremy caught a break. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what looked to be a shadow dropping into a ditch on the side of the road. He swerved to the side of the road and came to an abrupt stop. "Foxy?!" There was movement from the ditch and Jeremy wrangled his flashlight out of his glovebox and pointed it out. He caught the slightest glimpse of rust colored fabric in the light. "Foxy, it's me! Over here!" he desperately called. He then whistled, "Over here, Foxy! I'm in the car!" The figure stood from the ditch but didn't approach. "Hurry, Gabe! We'll get seen!"
Finally, Foxy jogged over to the car. He leaned in to the window, with his golden eyes fixating on Jeremy with an almost unenthused look. "I could go without ya callin' me like a mutt," the animatronic remarked. Jeremy responded with a sheepish look but didn't have time to explain before Foxy moved to open the back door. "Yer gonna need to turn this thing around quick. The whole parking lot's full-." He stopped when he noticed the tarp laid out on the backseat. He stared at it until the human noticed.
"Oh, that! That, uh… I though you might get some sand on you," Jeremy quickly excused. "I figured it would be easier to clean..."
"…Ya really do think I'm a mutt, don't ya?" When the human sputtered, Foxy gave a sort of scoffing noise of amusement and climbed into the back. He shut the door behind him. "Alright, Lad. Turn us round and ship off to anywhere else but here! We stick around too long an' we gonna get caught." He shuffled around uncomfortably, feeling stiff and clustered in.
"Just stay low, okay? And hold on," Jeremy said. He then risked the possible illegal turn as quickly as possible, considering that the police were so close by. Soon they were heading down the road back towards the city. "What happened in there? Did he… Did you get Dave?" The fox flinched at the mention of the man and gave a weary exhale.
"No, Lad. He was too quick fer ol' Foxy. Marion and Mike got 'em, I just watched the kids an' kept them distracted." Saying it now made it sound like he hadn't done anything at all, and he could've believed it. He intended to slice his hook through Dave's gullet and get proper revenge for the children, but instead he did little more than play babysitter. He shifted uncomfortably before leaning down to strip the fabric off his lower legs, hoping it would help him move easier. "I 'aven't even a clue whether they got the bloater or not…"
"Mike said that they did. Don't worry about Dave. I'm not," Jeremy reassured. He then perked with a happier smile. "So, you got to protect the kids? That's great! I know you'd never let anything happen to them. I'm sure they were safer with you than anyone else."
"An' what about you?" Foxy inquired cheekily. Pushing aside his own feelings, he leaned forward against the back of Jeremy's seat, tapping his shoulder with the hook. "Ya think I didn't see ya flogging that bloater? That be impressive, Lad! Who taught ya ta swing a hook like that, eh? T'wasn't me!" Jeremy gave an embarrassed chuckle.
"I got it as good as I gave it, Foxy," Jeremy humbly denied. He then hesitantly touched his sore eye with a hiss. "I'm going to be feeling this tomorrow." The pirate started leaning further between the seats but got caught in the awkward sort of squeeze. "It's fine! I'm fine, don't worry about it… But yeah. They got Dave. They took him to the hospital, but then he'll be off to jail and out of our hair for good." Foxy gave a disapproving noise as he slipped back into the seat again.
"Meh… A hospital be too good for him. He's prob'ly fakin' it!" Foxy accused with a low growl. He slid back down under the window and glared at the floor.
"…Yeah, I'd say so." Foxy was almost surprised at the usually innocent Jeremy's blunt agreement. "I mean, some people actually do get injured while being arrested, but a friend of mine- old friend, ex-friend now- tried to fake blood sugar problems so that he'd go to the hospital instead of right to jail. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time. We got out around the same time the next day, so he pretty much lost an hour of being locked up," the human finished in explanation. He noticed Foxy shift upwards abruptly and was confused by the fox's lingering silence. "…What? You knew I went to jail."
"Ya told me ya went to jail, Lad, but ya never told me ya were a repeat offender!" The shock was quickly replaced with amusement, along with a smirk on his voice. Almost immediately, Jeremy felt his face begin to flush. He hadn't expected that Foxy would've picked up such a minor detail. "Well, well. I knew ya weren't as much of a goody-goody as ya try to let on, but I didn't expect ya to be a hooligan!"
"Well, I… I don't… I wouldn't say a hooligan, I mean… I was on first name basis with most of the cops. That's why I moved here." Foxy bellowed out in laughter and Jeremy flushed darker, with the slightest bit of a smile. At least Foxy was impressed. Pretty much everyone else who know about his track record- except maybe Fritz, Natalie, and Mike- hadn't been nearly as relaxed.
"So, tell me, Lad," Foxy began. He then gave an uncomfortable 'omph' as he struggled to turn himself. The backseat just felt too small and he was half tempted to try the front seat. He doubted he would fit comfortably, and he didn't have the ability to contort himself down into the floorboards like Marionette managed to. There was shuffling as he removed more of his outer pieces. "Whatcha do that put you in the brig so much? Driving without a license? Vandalizing and graffiti?"
"Shoplifting, mostly," Jeremy admitted. "Music tapes, candy, food, cigarettes. Pretty much anything I could get my hand on."
"Ya shoplifted food? If you were that hungry, why didn't ya tell someone?" Foxy asked in confusion. "And you smoking? I don't see it, Jer'my."
"Well, no. I didn't smoke. Some of my friends did and I had the sticky fingers, so I stole for them." Jeremy sent him an embarrassed smile in the rearview mirror but couldn't see the fox with how it was turned. "And… It wasn't, like, needy stealing. They would have probably been way more sympathetic if I was stealing because I was hungry. I just… For instance, I wouldn't like dinner, so I'd go to the store and steal something premade. I'd go to jail over a hoagie sandwich, Foxy. A sandwich." It took a few seconds this time before Foxy broke into laughter. This time, Jeremy frowned in pouting. "It's not that funny…"
"Lad, you look at me with a straight face and tell me that ain't funny," Foxy challenged. Jeremy stared straight ahead, deciding not to even dare and try. "'Sides, I've done worse. A couple of me old crew and me painted the side o' a school. Nearly got sent to juvey, if'n not fer connections. Can't remember which one of 'em, but his pa was pretty big in town. Got us off the hook faster than a Great White hooked to a wobbly fishin' boat." Jeremy snickered lightly. "Whazzat, Lad? Ya surprised."
"I, uh, honestly? No. From what you've said- you haven't said much, but what you have said, you sounded like you were pretty much the stereotypical bad boy."
Foxy scoffed, "There ain't be nothin' stereotypical 'bout Captain Foxy!" He looked upwards at the streetlights as they turned off the highway and back towards the city again. His hook lightly dragged along the backseat. "…Except that he be a children's entertainer who ain't fit fer huntin' anymore."
"Don't get all melancholy about that! I told you everything Mike said… But…" Jeremy hesitated as worry started to fill him. "He wanted to get off the phone pretty quickly… I don't know, he acted like there was something he wasn't saying, but I- you know me, Foxy. I'm not the type to push."
"But yer the type to steal a sandwich. Lad, I don't know you anymore. You be a stranger," Foxy quipped back. "… Come to think of it… Seemed to be somethin' odd going on…" It was then that he suddenly remembered how much blood he had smelled. At the time he hadn't thought about it, and the first thought was that it was from Marionette attacking Dave. However, even that seemed odd, as he didn't have teeth nor claws. Not to mention that Mike didn't have any blood on him. Only now, with the children safe and no longer in view, did his curiosity suddenly become insatiable.
He then realized that Jeremy was still talking to him. He shook away the thoughts. "What was that, Lad? I was somewhere out at sea." He rubbed his hand over his metal face as he dropped his fabric head onto his lap.
"I was just saying that you could come home with me. I don't know if the cops are going to still be at the pizzeria anyway. Smuggling you in isn't going to be easy, Captain," he pointed out. There was a little too much excitement in his voice, but it was no surprise that Jeremy enjoyed taking Foxy home. Even if his home was a little less friendly now that there were more animatronics inside. Foxy gave a disinterested sort of noise as an answer. "It will be great. Everyone would love to see you anyway." Again, Foxy seemed less than interested, but he didn't really have a choice. "Maybe you could even look at some realty pamphlets I picked up?"
"Yeah, sure thing, Lad…" Foxy answered as they continued the drive. It wasn't too much longer before they were parked outside of his apartment.
"Okay, so we'll just use that tarp you're on to cover you and get you right-!" Jeremy turned into the backseat and immediately cut off. Instead of looking into the familiar face of the fox, he was staring at a blank endoskeleton face. He glanced down at the empty head on his lap in shock; he didn't even realize that it came off.
"Right what?" Foxy coaxed. Just a blunt question and Jeremy paused.
"Right… On? I, uh, I didn't know your head… Came off." Foxy scoffed with a low rumble of laughter. He didn't buy it for a second and the flustered man started to open the car door. His cheeks were slowly staining in pink. "Let me just get that for you-."
"No need, Lad. If I could run from the pizzeria to the theater, then I can run from here to yer door," Foxy quickly excused. Before Jeremy could even contemplate what was happening, Foxy rushed to put his fabric back on. "Just get the key out, yeah? I gotta get in quick." While the human seemed hesitant, he did start to get the proper key out and handed it over. "Thanks, Lad." After a quick stretch of his legs, Foxy took off to the door and unlocked it, scrambling with the lock. Jeremy got to the door right as Foxy got it open, and the animatronic pushed him in before following quickly inside.
As soon as they were inside, they were rushed by tiny animatronics. Or, at least, Jeremy was. The Minireenas hurried to his feet and looked up eagerly at him, including the still more demure Lilium. Even Plushtrap could be seen peering out behind the couch. Neither Max nor Balloon Boy were to be seen, but the Bidybabs were looking out from the bathroom door. Foxy could hear one of them whisper, "He brought the fox home. He must have been with the fox." Then the door was slowly pulled shut and the Bidybabs were gone once more.
That scene alone could sum up Foxy's experiences with Jeremy's 'orphans' better than any anecdote could. They didn't like him, they believed he kept Jeremy away, and when given the chance they would rather just leave the room. He could already tell that tonight was only going to get better and better.
"Maybe we could turn the news on and see what they're saying," Jeremy pointed out as he tried to walk with the Minireenas hanging off his legs. A quick scan of the couch revealed no remote. "Max must have it… Hold on, I can do it manually, but this is going to take a minute."
"I ain't rushin' off," Foxy quipped as he dropped onto the couch with a thump. He could hear Plushtrap's small footsteps as he sprinted off into the kitchen. "How's yer eye?"
"To be honest, the mace stung a lot worse than the punch," Jeremy remarked as he clicked through the channels. He used his free hand to pat Daisy's back, as she had made it to his waist and was now clinging on for dear life. Once it was on the news channel, he crossed to the couch to sit down, and only now did the dolls drop off. Though that was only so that they- the three performers, as Lilium decided now to go after Plushtrap- could climb onto the couch and crawl into his lap. Forget-Me-Not hissed at Foxy once she had found a comfortable spot in the crook of his arm. "Don't be like that, please."
There was no point in really trying with the little animatronics. They obviously didn't like Foxy standing in between their time with Jeremy, nor sharing him in the slightest. Foxy could care less right now. For the first time in a long time, he felt winded after running for so long. It was such a bizarre feeling in this body; Foxy almost liked it. It reminded him of when he used to work out as a teen. Long afternoons of running, push-ups, sit ups, all trying to relieve the frustration of his homelife. Looking back on it, he almost missed those simple days where exercise made everything disappear for a while.
Or he did until something crawled over the armrest and flung itself into his lap. He looked down at Balloon Boy's wooden back, watching as it turned its head around to face him, giving him a laugh in greeting. Its original body had been creepy enough, but this Pinocchio-esque one only gave him more examples to show it. It was slightly uncomfortable. Foxy wasn't surprised that Balloon Boy would laugh at his pain.
"That's it. That's the place," Jeremy pointed out as the news came on to show a scene outside of Magictime. He leaned down towards the dolls in his lap, "We were just there right before we got home." They turned their heads attentively towards the screen. "There's animatronics there too."
"Wouldn't want to be one of those poor suckers, soon to be dismembered and forgotten in a garage. Alive or not, that ain't a good way to go." As callous as Foxy sounded, he was aware that the animatronics inside were not possessed. Sometimes it was a little harder to tell, but none of the four standing in that front room gave any indication that they were even the slightest bit alive. The closest thing was the Candy Cadet, but it too seemed to be a lifeless husk. There were plenty of empty shells hovering around, waiting to be filled by a monster like Dave.
He leaned back against the back of the couch and stretched an arm out past Jeremy's shoulders. "There was supposed to be that Marion knock-off too, but I didn't see it. Not that I think Marion's gonna be disappointed to see that thing chucked in a dumpster," the fox pointed out.
"I thought Mike bought it," Jeremy chimed in, still staring intently at the television. "I don't think he took it home with him though, and it's not over at the pizzeria if you didn't see it." He barely noticed as the captain started to sit upwards.
"He bought it?" Foxy asked. "He… He wanted a clone of my brother, he took it home- he wasn't happy with one?" It baffled him. He didn't even notice that he had gone out of character until now. "Of all the creepy things-!"
"Foxy, shh! Look, look!" Jeremy gestured to the television where the camera suddenly cut in on an interview with what looked to be the man in charge of the investigation. Now Foxy's interest returned and he leaned forward, causing Balloon Boy to almost get pinned sideways. Though the animatronic didn't seem too bothered, nor offended like the other little ones would've been. Foxy was transfixed on the man on the screen as memories flooded him.
"That's him… I know that man! That's the guy who investigated Freddy's!" Foxy revealed. Jeremy looked to him in shock and the pirate continued. "My eye doesn't deceive me; that's 'im alright! I'd recognize 'em anywhere! That's-!..." And then Foxy drew a blank. By now the small introduction bar that said his name had disappeared too. "…I ain't got a clue." He gave a slight shrug and clapped his hand on Jeremy's back. "It'll come back to me."
"At this time, we're investigating this case as unrelated to the unsolved missing children case at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," the detective abruptly announced in his interview. He had dropped the name of Freddy's so quickly that it almost took both Foxy and Jeremy off guard. "The investigation is still early in development, but we have the suspect in custody and the children have been safely returned to their parents."
"Glad to see that the police force still be doin' a bang-up job!" the fox proclaimed with exasperation. He then gave a weary exhale, "How many years has it been, and they still never found a single lead…" He was starting to come out of character and didn't even care the slightest bit. He tiredly lifted Balloon Boy under the arms and placed him between himself and the armrest.
When it came down to it, Foxy couldn't help but be a little frustrated by how little interest was shown in the Freddy case. While he couldn't afford to have someone digging up the past, the fact that nobody even seemed interested in doing so frustrated him. This kidnapping event was almost the same as the one at Freddy's and involved a worker at the old establishment, and yet nobody even considered it. The detective on the case simply cast it aside. Because of this, Dave might get off easy, and as usual, William Afton averted detection. The mystery of Freddy's was just not important enough.
"We should all be happy, right? We don't want Freddy's following us forever…" He tiredly hunched forwards, his arms resting on his legs, head dropped, and shoulders slouched. "But after all these years… I sort of hoped that somebody would've found something…"
"Someone got Dave, right?" Jeremy offered as he reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Might have not been the cops, but it was us. We found out the truth about Freddy's too, and if Bill was alive today we could've turned him in ourselves." He sent him an assuring smile. It almost seemed punctuated by the reddening skin on his cheek and around his eye. Jeremy had that way about him, though his wording tended to have its questioning moments.
"…The greatest revenge of all would've just been calling him Bill even once. You better believe that would've killed him," Foxy pointed out. He then started to recover once more, "Yer right, Lad. Yer always right…" He reached forward and nudged his chin up so that he could look over his face. "Yer gonna want to ice this," Foxy suggested as he traced the cold metal of his hook over the reddened skin. Jeremy flinched at the coldness and gave an awkward smile.
"Great, I have a badge of honor," Jeremy said. "Good to know that I'm not going to forget tonight for a few days." The pirate chuckled good-naturedly as he pulled him into a one-armed hug. He ignored the hissing and 'uh!' noises that the Minireenas used to protest being jostled. He could live with it for Jeremy.
"-Was found dead on arrival. Resuscitation attempts were made, but the victim was declared dead at ten-."
In an instant, Foxy yanked back, holding Jeremy's at arm's length, and looked towards the screen. "What the bloody 'ell was that? Dead? Whose dead?" He knew what he had heard, and he was suddenly fixated. It was then that the image of the theater and cops was replaced with the photo of the victim. It looked to be taken off a driver's license and wasn't a full body view, but the face alone already showed what it needed to. "That- That be Charlie!" Foxy had seen Charlie enough to recognize her face. Frequent visitor, Henry's daughter, Goldie's daughter, friends to Marionette, and now dead on arrival.
"It was Charlie?" Jeremy asked in disbelief. "What was Charlie even doing there?! I thought he was only kidnapping kids!" He knew much less about the girl but had seen her once or twice. He was totally aghast for a moment and was snapped out of it when Foxy stood up abruptly. "Foxy?"
"Ya said Mike got off the phone real quick…?" Foxy drew out. Suspicion laced his voice as he tapped his hook on the television. "Smelled all like blood back there. Bet it was her… That knock-off was missing…" he muttered to himself. All at once it hit him and his eyes widened as he realized what this all meant. "Blow me down. He did it, didn't he? That's where he was. That's why Mike didn't know where he was, an' why he wasn't with the kids…"
"What are you talking about? Do you mean Dave or Marionette?" Jeremy asked as he set aside the Minireenas and Balloon Boy to stand. He stood in front of the couch momentarily before he looked back to the screen. "…She's not really dead, is she?" In response, Foxy lowered his head. "I can call Mike and-."
"No." Both were surprised at how quickly Foxy shot the idea down. As much as he wanted to know, he knew that this wasn't the time to intrude. If his brother was doing what he thought he was, then he would need his time to handle it. "Not tonight, Lad. We'll find out tomorrow. Let's just… Let's just settle in fer tonight." He backed towards the couch before turning towards the man. "It's been a long night and whatever happens… We both know it ain't goin' anywhere by tomorrow."
"I guess… Yeah, that makes sense. Should I put it on something else?" Jeremy offered. "We'll just get the whole story tomorrow. The news might stretch out for hours anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "I think I'd prefer it too, actually. I can't imagine the dreams that might come out of all of this."
"Nightmares, Lad. Those be nightmares," Foxy corrected grimly. He then went to drop back onto the couch, and promptly landed on top of Balloon Boy, who had for whatever reason scooted underneath him. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, BB!" the pirate called as he tugged the animatronic back out from under him. Balloon Boy responded with a slightly pained giggle. He then noticed Forget-Me-Not and Rose glaring at him from across the couch. "Yeah, I see the two of you too." They climbed over the armrest and dropped out of view.
Indeed, there would be nightmares tonight. There was no doubt about that. To think that all these small, frustrating creatures were the same as he was. He kept his complaints to a minimum as Jeremy returned beside him. This time he scooted a little closer to the fox than before, but kept his eyes trained downwards. He removed his glasses to clean them and sighed as he got a better look at the cracked lens. It was by sheer luck that the frames hadn't been bent. "Gabe…?"
Foxy flinched lightly and almost considered correcting Jeremy but decided against it when he noticed his more somber behavior. "Yeah, Lad?" There was a long pause as he absentmindedly tried to clean the good lens on his shirt. It was clear that he was hesitant to say what he wanted to.
"I just want you to know that I… I think what you did- I think you going to the children instead of going after Dave… I don't think I've ever admired you more. I just wanted you to know that," Jeremy admitted to him. Foxy was positively dumbstruck by the suggestion. He almost was doubtful of it, thinking that they were just mindless assurances, but he knew that the man wouldn't do that. Jeremy was readable, and the difference between him just trying to comfort and him being fully outright was night and day. He silently put his arm around the blonde's shoulders.
"Thanks, Jeremy."
Marionette entered the pink bedroom and flipped on the light switch. He then hurried to the bed and pulled the comforter and sheets down. He frowned at the light dust that had settled on the comforter. "I should've washed these beforehand. Who would think a bed would collect so much dust?" He lightly beat at the pink comforter. "Should I beat it out?"
"I don't think it matters. It's on the outside, we can wash it later," Mike assured as he slipped into the room. He was carrying the Security Puppet's limp form in his arms. It was awkward, especially since he didn't know how he was supposed to carry it. Or her. If it was her. For now, its arms dangled down, and its legs folded together. Its head tilted back and the sphere on the end of the prong on the back of its head jingled like a bell as it brushed the door. It would certainly be an awkward body, or Mike believed so, but he would agree that it was marginally better than the other options.
"Yes, sorry, here." Marionette tugged down the blankets further and moved out of the way. "I just… I just want her to be comfortable." Regardless of how weird this all was, Mike was gentle as he set the Security Puppet onto the bed. Marionette quickly pulled the blanket up and tucked it in, ignoring its vacant smile as he pet over its head affectionately a few times. Mike, who still had the green jacket in his arms, handed it over. "Thank you." The Puppet tucked it in too. "It might make her feel better to have something that she remembers with her when she wakes up."
"How long are we looking at? A couple of days or a couple of hours?" Mike asked. Marionette drew back with a sigh and rubbed his mask tiredly but thoughtfully.
"It depends… Usually a few hours at least. It really depends on how she takes to her body. Usually those with their body attached to the animatronic take faster, become more grounded, but due to how quick this all had to be… She may need more time." He then turned fully towards the human, watching as he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair.
"That's probably for the best. Let's give her some time to rest." The human then reached out and turned off the light before heading out. Marionette followed out, with the door telekinetically closing behind him. In the hallway, Mike rubbed over his face tiredly and tried to think of what to do. "I could go in there right now and try to sleep, but I doubt it would go anywhere. How am I wired and exhausted at the same time?" He gave dry laughter, not noticing at first that he wasn't being followed. The striped one hovered outside the door for a moment, then it all weighed down on him.
In an instant, Marionette dropped against the door and fell to the floor. He bent his legs and wrapped his arms around them, dropping his head onto his knees as he let the emotion pour out. By time Mike looked back, Marionette was sobbing inconsolably, letting out all the pent-up tears from earlier. Mike was surprised and confused but knew what was happening. "Oh, Mari…" He sighed and knelt in front of him on the carpet. "Mai, it's going to be alright."
"I didn't want you to ever see me do that…" Marionette admitted pitifully. "I wanted- I wanted you to see me in control. Not like a mindless monster that does whatever their programming commands!"
"Mari, I was seconds from knocking Dave's lights out. Nothing you did was wrong," Mike insisted. He would've continued if not for the striped male shaking his head insistently.
"It's not that. I mean… I meant what I did to Charlie… The Joy of Creation- as if any of it was joyful!" He leaned his head back and it thumped against the door behind him as he stared at the ceiling. Purple paint dribbled down his pale mask. "I didn't want you to see that. I did that to Charlie without asking her, without knowing what she wanted. Would you want that? To be trapped in a body without even choosing which one?"
"Well, to be honest…" Mike paused as he considered how honest to be.
"It doesn't matter," Marionette interrupted. "Because it doesn't matter if you told me to or not, if you begged me to let you move on, if keeping you here would only put you in a body you didn't want, or anything else. If you died in front of me, I wouldn't be able to control myself. There wouldn't be any choice or decision, I would just do this thing I was made to do." His music box made a cracking noise, causing his voice to choke. "It's different with children. They wouldn't be able to make that choice. They would naturally want to live… But adults- would they want this life?"
"Marionette, look at me," Mike insisted. Marionette lowered his head to look into those firm, blue eyes. He felt exposed underneath them; Mike had a way of doing that to him with just a look. "What you did was save her life. If it's being an animatronic or nothing, no sane person would rather be dead. And that includes me." He reached out and took both of Marionette's hands; mostly because his fingers were digging into his own fabric. "If anything happened to me suddenly, if someone killed me, if I was in an accident, you've got my full consent to put me in a body. Don't even overthink it."
"Okay…" Marionette agreed almost meekly. There was a slight relief in hearing it, but the tears were still fresh, and the guilt was still there.
"I could think of something worse than spending a second life alongside you," Mike reaffirmed as he traced his thumbs over the back of the Puppet's hands. "And as for Charlie…Charlie's young. Charlie got a bum deal; she almost lost everything. Maybe this isn't the same as being human, but she's got a chance to live a good life. We have a good life, right?"
"…Yes, we do," Marionette agreed again. He drew back one arm to lightly wipe at his tears. "You know we do. I love being with you."
"And I love being with you too. Charlie's got a chance to get that instead of just being a casualty to another Purple Man. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and I don't know how exactly we're going to do help her get comfortable, but you did a good thing." It was only at this moment that Mike realized that Charlie would be staying with them for a while. It would be weird having someone else with them in the house, but they would adjust. This was the least of their problems and it went behind other thoughts. "…And if I didn't want to see it then I could've walked away, but you couldn't have dragged me away."
"Maybe I could've, but I didn't feel like it," Marionette quietly tried to joke. Mike smirked at the effort, glad to see a more positive twist, and released the Puppet's hands so that he could try and wipe away the tears. "What now?"
"Probably going to soak my jacket first thing. Maybe throw it into the sink with whatever we have under the counter and deal with it tomorrow… I don't know, it's early and I'm exhausted. Maybe we'll force ourselves through a few minutes of whatever's on tv and then pass out whenever that gets boring," Mike suggested. He rubbed over the Puppet's striped leg affectionately, trying to ease him the rest of the way. "Maybe just try to keep it a normal night."
"…I think I would like that," Marionette agreed. The human offered his hand and pulled the Puppet off the floor. He reached up to fuss with his mask, "How bad does it look?" Mike stared back blankly, looking at the smeared tears on his mask.
"You might want to soak it in the sink," he finally remarked with a playful tinge. The animatronic made a motion like he was rolling his eyes in response, but a small touch of a smile was starting to return. Before Mike could even remark on it, or say anything, Marionette moved in and hugged him tightly. He pressed his still damp mask against Mike's neck, clutching on. Naturally, Mike couldn't tell if it was a vie for affection or a response to being told that he was covered in paint. Not that he was afraid of the stains of the tears. Even if he was, it wasn't important in comparison to the need for comfort. It had been a long night.
They then headed into the kitchen. The Puppet started to fill the sink and scrubbed at his tears, before moving aside for Mike to submerge his jacket in the sink. He wasn't concerned about the shed tears and merely dumped in more detergent from underneath the sink. "I think our next investment's going to be a better washing machine." Not to mention how loud it was outside of the master bedroom. He looked over to Marionette, who was looking through the refrigerator. "Planning on some late-night stress-baking?"
"I'd rather find something leftover to heat up for you. You haven't eaten anything," Marionette pointed out. He pulled out a Tupperware container and tried to look through the sides. "…Do you remember what we had in this?"
"Don't bother, I lost my appetite a long time ago," Mike waved off as he briefly worked the jacket into the mixture. He then dried his hands off and peered curiously over the Puppet's shoulder. "I don't take the fact that it fogged up the plastic as a good sign."
"I'm opening it," Marionette forewarned. He then popped open the container and Mike nearly recoiled behind him. It looked like pasta salad, maybe, but it smelled like some sort of meat that had stayed out a bit too long. "…I think it's tuna." He half expected Moppet to come over, but one look at the adolescent cat showed that she had no interest in it, and instead was much more content to stay sprawled in her bed, watching the scene from a distance. Marionette looked back to Mike, "You only had cake today. You need to eat something."
"Well, that's something alright," Mike murmured as he looked at whatever was in the Tupperware. He crossed his arms thoughtfully as he looked at the grey mixture. For a moment he contemplated it: after a night full of death, kidnapping, and facing the past, here they were trying to figure out whether or not something was edible. "…You know, I'm starting to wonder what would be more devastating: waking up as an animatronic or waking up and having to live with us."
"For that comment alone, you're eating this."
Cold and wet. Something smelled stagnant, like copper and refuse molded into one. Very cold and damp, and heavy, and the sound of a roaring screech.
Headlights.
Bright, unyielding headlights that were followed by agonizing and sudden pain. Then everything had become very hazy. She couldn't remember anything past that point.
Charlie felt strange as she awoke. She wasn't sure how, but the lack of immediate pain seemed to be a good thing. Her vision came quickly, and she realized that she was in an unfamiliar bedroom. There was fear instantly, for that man could've taken her home, but it almost seemed lessened by the conditions of the room. This didn't look to be the home of a child snatcher. If anything, it looked like a young woman's bedroom, but she didn't let her guard down.
"What happened?" She weakly turned over to look towards the window, where sunlight tried to come through the curtain. "That guy and that girl… And he was in a car…" Then the flash of headlights returned. That instant she had looked back seemed trapped in her mind. "…Did I get hit?" She moved her body slightly. Something felt amiss, but she certainly didn't feel like she was suffering from severe injuries. "Maybe not?" She shifted toward the edge of the bed that faced the window. "Maybe I should get up and figure out where I am…"
Yet as Charlie tried to move her body she realized that the abnormal weakness was more than just weariness. She tried to pull herself to the edge of the bed and barely managed to. Her arms were cooperating, but her legs still felt stiff, and everything just seemed a little odd in comparison to how it was supposed to feel. Yet Charlie knew she had to get out of bed and get wherever she could to call for help, or at least look through the window. Who knew if anyone was able to catch that man before he disappeared with the girl for good.
"I hope she got away. It looked like she was going to outrun him, but the car… Let's just not think about that." Charlie shakily pushed herself upright and tried to slide her legs out of the bed, but they were almost tangled under the blankets. They were too weak to pull themselves free and she fumbled forward. "Something's wrong with me." In a last-ditch effort to save herself from the fall to the floor, Charlie reached out to grab for the beside stand.
A long, striped arm with a jet-black hand reached out instead. She gasped, heard an out of place jingling noise, and proceeded to collapse to the floor painfully.
For a moment she just laid there on the carpet, thinking that she was more confused than she thought. "I… I think I'm hallucinating… Someone drugged me…" It could explain why her body was so weak. "Maybe if I just open my eyes slowly…" Her vision started to return even though she swore she couldn't feel her eyes opening. Laying in front of her was another black hand. She raised it and looked at it as she tried to push herself off the carpet. Whatever type of hallucination this was, it certainly was a strong one, and she looked down at herself. To her horror, her entire body was distorted.
Her entire form looked like some sort of corrupted version of the Puppet and not of her human body. She started choking, trying to vocalize anything or even call out, but found her voice quite silent. Worst still, even if she could speak it would likely only be drowned out by that intermittent jingling noise. It sounded like bells and it only increased over time, making her even more anxious. "What's wrong with me?! I can't breathe!" She tried to force herself to breathe and found nothing entering or exiting. She reached for her mouth and her hands touched over firm plates instead of skin.
That was when the panic took over. Charlie grabbed at the plates to try and yank them off and reach the skin surely underneath, but they wouldn't budge. She then lashed out at anything else. She grabbed at herself, the carpet, the curtains, and anything in her reach to somehow snap her out of whatever this is. Her arms, originally feeling strong, started to weaken in her frantic display, and she began to have trouble keeping herself upright. Her head thumped against the wall as she briefly collapsed; to her continued panic, she barely felt it at all.
"What is this- What did he do to me?! The car didn't-! I don't understand, I'm not supposed to be like this!" Everything that she wanted to say stayed quiet, and instead all she heard were those accursed jingles. She was nearly broken down into weeping, but there were no tears and there were no sobs. All she had was a shaking, unfamiliar, weakened form.
This was no hallucination. She was an animatronic. She tried to scream, and the bells were deafening.
"Charlie?!" Out of nowhere, there was another voice in the room.
Charlie shoved herself back until her back hit between the nightstand and the wall. The lamp above her head wobbled, but she wasn't paying much attention to it. She was instead trying to comprehend what was happening.
It was now that Marionette appeared around the foot of the bed. She didn't know how to react to his sudden appearance, other than taking it as a horrified confirmation. He had been the one to tell her about the dead being put into animatronics. He was here, she was in an unfamiliar body, and it all fit together so well. Dave had killed her, and Marionette had made her into an animatronic. She was trembling.
"Oh, Charlie…" Marionette's voice grew soft as his face twisted into a mix of sadness and sympathy. He floated in closer and knelt on the carpet before her. He started to reach for her and she turned her head to look at his hand, startled, so he drew back once more and decided to wait. "I know you're probably frightened and confused…" There was an off-tune sound from his chest. Only now did she realize how similar the jingling noise was to the Puppet's own chiming. "Charlie, I'm so sorry," Marionette choked. He raised a hand to his mask to try and focus on stopping any tears. "I di- I didn't know what else to do. You were so fa-ar gone…"
Marionette looked up at her before reaching for her again. This time she didn't look startled or recoil, and the Puppet laid a hand on her shoulder. In response, Charlie dropped her head, as though giving up on any chance of waking from this budding nightmare. Acceptance came quick, but that didn't mean that she was able to handle it. She started to shut down; she felt empty. Noticing this, Marionette moved in and wrapped his arms around her new body, hugging her close.
"It's going to be okay. It's a new day and… I'll make sure you're safe. I can take care of you. We can take care of you…" Marionette promised her. "You won't be alone…"
And in a matter of moments, Charlie had lost everything.
Mable: Sorry, Charlie.