This chapter is a bit shorter, since the next chapter is going to have a lot going on...
*Cue evil laughter*
Oh! Also, the next chapter will technically be a Christmas-y chapter. It's definitely going to be different than last years, with Bill where he is and the others in their situation, but time isn't always going to be on their side...
Hehee...
Here's chapter 55 of "Welcome Home"!
Bill walked down the hallway with a hand holding his arm. That had been a close one. Bratsman certainly had more of the upper hand than Bill had originally thought. It would also be much more difficult to escape knowing that he no longer had access to his powers, as well as him knowing that Bratsman would be on his back and watching him. He didn't like having to come to terms with those facts. He gave a heavy sigh through his nose before walking up to the door, turning the handle and poking his head inside the room with the cage before entering.
The four Sev'ral Timez boys all turned to see the other blonde walk into the room, all of them gasping in unison.
"Chris, you're alive!" One member said.
"Are you hurt?" Another asked.
"No," Bill answered. He gave a forced laugh. "He just had some information waiting for me is all." He half-lied, walking up to the cage and getting back inside. He would have made a run for it on the way back, but he knew that Bratsman would follow him to be sure he had gotten back like he had been instructed to do. He couldn't risk blowing his chance of staying around the current area to find a new way out.
"We're glad you're alright." Leggy P said. He walked up to Bill and gave him a hug. Bill gave a look of unease and opened his mouth to state that it was uncomfortable, only for the other boys to go along with Leggy's gesture and join in. Bill sighed and just stood there for a moment. Surely they would get off of him in a moment.
Chubby Z pulled away and folded his arms. "You've gotta keep it on the down-low for a while, dawg." He stated.
"Yeah, you've gotta be careful." Leggy agreed.
"I don't really have any other choice." Bill muttered, putting his hands in his coat pockets. He looked at the door and said, "He'll probably be coming back soon. Based on the things he was saying, it seems like he has something coming that he needs me here for." He revealed.
The other boys all groaned in unison and rolled their eyes, all giving their own mumbles of distaste. Bill noticed this and raised an eyebrow at the behavior.
"What?" Bill inquired. "What's with the reaction?"
"Don't you remember?" Leggy asked, as if he were some sort of an idiot. "When that happens, it usually means that our producer has a show for all of us to do." He said.
Bill raised an eyebrow. "A show..?" He proceeded to ask. He wasn't understanding what the others were talking about, and he was sure the others would become suspicious on how little he understood about it all. For a moment Bill wondered if the others would believe him if he were to say that he wasn't who they all thought he was. Could it be helpful, or would it be dangerous? He let the question go for now, currently more curious about the so-called show they may have to perform.
"Without practice?" Chubby Z asked, looking at his brother and pushing aside Bill's confusion. "Don't you think he'd have us practice first?"
Leggy hummed at this statement. "Good point." He said. After a moment, he continued. "Counter point, remember that show we were supposed to do last year that never happened when Mabel girl freed us?"
Bill raised an eyebrow at the mentioning of Mabel's name and wondered if it was the same Mabel he knew. Knowing her, that was a very likely possibility. A part of her personality reeked of cute boyband vibes. Still though, she had been apart of this? Bill was pondering all of this at once, wondering now if somehow getting into contact with her would be useful to him...
"Dang, you're right." Greggy agreed. He frowned and looked away. "I-I don't remember most of what we'd practiced." He admitted.
"Maybe if we put our heads together, we can try our best to remember enough to get by!" Leggy suggested.
Bill looked at the others in confusion. "Hold on," He began. "How do we know for sure that he wants us to do this... show thing?" He asked.
"Knowing him, it's pretty obvious." Chubby muttered under his breath. He looked at the others and shrugged. "Even if it's not what's happening, practicing would be a good idea anyway. We're probably a little rusty." He reasoned.
Bill figured he'd keep a low profile and just try to understand what the others were doing, and what they were supposed to do. Without experience, he had to learn what he could in the amount of time they had.
"Let's try this again," Ford began. He stood in the kitchen with his arms folded, looking down at the blonde who sat in a chair. He wasn't tied up this time, but he was still aware that if he tried to escape, Ford would stop him from doing so.
"What's your name?" Ford asked. He looked down at the blonde, waiting for an answer.
"Chris." The blonde answered. He might as well have a name to be addressed by, rather than 'The stranger' or 'The imposter', or sometimes even 'The replacement idiot', specifically by Stan. It would just be easier for everyone if he had a name to be called. That, and he didn't have a good reason to hide much from the scientist, anyway.
"Last name?" Ford proceeded.
Chris shrugged. "Don't have one." He responded.
Stanford raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a last name?" He asked. At first he found this to be a potential lie, but knowing that the man was not a human, it was a bit more understandable to him.
"No, sir." Chris replied.
"Interesting." Ford muttered. He had moved Fiddleford to the living room after the other had passed out. He assumed it would be better if he woke up in a room where the man he had passed out to wasn't currently in. Ford wasn't exactly sure why McGucket had the reaction he'd presented. Ford figured it would be best to bring up that confusion and ask the blonde about it.
"Tell me, Chris," Ford began, looking down at the man. "Why is it that Fiddleford suddenly passed out when he came into contact with you?" He asked.
Chris put his hands together, fiddling with his fingers slightly. "Well, M-My guess would be that he's a fan." He answered, looking up at the man and giving a light shrug of his shoulders. He didn't know for sure, but he could assume that was the reason.
Ford raised an eyebrow, however. He wasn't sure what Chris was talking about. "A fan?" He proceeded to question, "Explain." He commanded.
Chris gave a short nod. "Well, for as long as I can remember before I'd been freed last year, I was one of five boys, my brothers, and we were all members of a pop band." He said. "I think I recall seein' your friend once, thinking back on it." He added.
Ford hummed, looking away to process the information before looking back at the younger. "And what exactly is this music group called?" He asked.
"Sev'ral Timez." Chris answered simply.
"You also said you were freed," Ford observed. "Expand on that for me." He encouraged.
Chris nodded. "There was this Mabel girl, helped us get out of that place and freed us to explore the outside world." He said, giving a small smile. "What she did means a lot to all of us." He continued.
Ford blinked. He took a moment of silence, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Mabel?" He asked. "Mabel Pines?" He saw Chris gave a nod, which he found a bit amusing. "I'm... really not surprised." He muttered to himself.
"I-In any case, they're in danger now." Chris said. "We've gotta free them, man."
"Of course," Ford agreed, as if it was a no-brainer. He furrowed his brows and added, "I just hope they're not as reckless as you are." He grumbled.
Chris folded his arms with a slight scowl. "Reckless?" He repeated in a taken aback tone. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, eyes narrowing.
"Would you like a list?" Ford replied, raising an eyebrow. "If I had to name only a few reasons, I would say... intruding, lying, putting others in danger, hiding away, impersonating," He continued. Ford caught a glimpse of Chris rolling his eyes. The scientist folded his arms and kept his brows furrowed. "Shall I go on?" He asked.
Chris looked away with a sigh. "Whatever gets the others free quicker." He answered in a muttered tone.
"Well if you want the others to be rescued, you have to explain where all of this is at." Ford pointed out.
Chris frowned and looked up at the older man. "But I don't know," He responded. "I don't know how to find specific places without looking around for them." He said. "I've lived in that studio, the forest, and on that stage my whole life!" He proceeded.
Ford hummed. He took a step back and looked around the room as he tried to think up an idea. After a moment, he looked at the blonde and asked, "Would you be able to identify the building on the outside of it?"
Chris shrugged. "Probably." He responded.
"Well then," Ford continued. "Perhaps we could go look?" He suggested. "If there's a chance you can identify where the others are, I don't want to ignore it or take it for granted." He said.
"I-I can't guarantee I'll know for sure." Chris said in advance. "It would be helpful if there was someone else who would have a better idea of where they're at..." He added.
Ford adjusted his glasses. After a moment, his eyes brightened slightly. "Like Fiddleford?" He questioned. Chris heard the question and after a moment. His eyes began to widen as he agreed with the scientists idea. Surely McGucket would come in handy with all of this, being that he had a record for being a major long-time fan of Sev'ral Timez. Who better to help figure this out than him?
"He'd definitely come in handy." Chris agreed.
Ford gave a hesitant nod. "I hope he won't mind going out so late at night." He added, speaking mostly to himself.
The sentence was loud enough for Chris to hear it. He raised an eyebrow and gave Ford a bewildered expression. "Wait, we're going out to look now? In the dark?" He asked.
"I'm not taking any risky chances." Ford defended.
"The only person who'd be awake at this time is our producer." Chris pointed out.
"That won't be an issue," Ford replied, scowling. "I'd like to give him a piece of my mind, as well." He grumbled.
Chris didn't respond to this. A part of him felt as though he should cancel out that idea. On the other hand though, he too wished to see Bratsman get a taste of his own medicine. After how cruel he's been for as long as he's known him, and how bad he's treated him and his brothers, he wasn't too fond on showing the producer mercy if it was safe to seek revenge.
"Ohh no," Stan retorted, walking into the kitchen and placing his Pitt cola on the table, looking at Ford with his hands on his hips. He pointed a finger at him with a scowl. "There's no way you're goin' out to town at midnight." He stated.
Ford took a step back. "It's only seven past ten-" He awkwardly replied.
"Don't care," Stan retorted. "You're stayin' here at the shack with this Chris weirdo, whether you like it or not." He stated, folding his arms.
"Bill's in danger," Ford replied, eyes narrowed. "The longer we wait, the higher the risk of him getting hurt will get."
"He's right," Chris agreed. Ford and Stan both turned to look at the blonde, seeing him stand up. Ford admitted that he was surprised to see the man agree with him, especially since he had just been showing his disapproval of going out to find him at this time as well. Chris put a hand on his arm and said, "It's risky to waste time."
Stan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You two are actin' like this is some life or death situation." He mumbled.
"It is!" The other two shot back in unison, looking at Stan with bewildered expressions.
Stan noticed the sudden reaction, his eyes widened. "Alright, alright!" He said, putting his hands up in front of him before giving a roll of his eyes. "But don't ya' think it'd be smarter ta' wait until morning so you've got some sorta' plan?" He asked.
"That's," Ford began, pointing a finger towards his brother with furrowed brows. After fully processing the question, he put his finger down and looked at the floor. "Actually... not a bad idea." He muttered.
Stan gave a cocky grin and folded his arms. "See, i'm full'a bright ideas!" He chirped.
"Ehh... more or less." Ford replied in a mutter.
Bill was confused. It was all confusing to him. As much as he had been trying to follow the same steps the other boys had been making in terms of their last-minute routine for an emergency situation, he still wasn't able to keep up as well with them.
The lights in the room were off. The four blondes were all fast asleep on the floor of the cage after working for a while. They seemed to be at peace, and asleep. Bill was sitting criss-cross on the ground as he looked up in the dark room, still seeing the outlining of his escape at the top of the cage, being shined upon by the very small amount of light in the room coming from the door. For a moment he looked around once more, seeing the boys still asleep and the door shut close. Perhaps if he were to take the chance of escaping at night...
No. That was a horrible idea. Bill was already on thin ice with Bratsman, and unfortunately for him, he couldn't afford to cause any misbehavior if he could control it. If what the boys theorized was true, then they would all be released from their cage for a few hours sometime soon in front of a crowd with people. That could be a good opportunity for Bill, knowing that there would be a crowd that he could use for a number of reasons, hopefully an easier way to escape or leave the dreaded place.
The room was practically pitch black, save for the tiny crack at the bottom of the room's door. The room was silent, the only form of white noise being Chubby Z's gentle, paced snoring. Bill felt his eyes begin to grow heavy as he felt the darkness of the room begin to affect him. His eyes shut for a moment, only for him to open them up once more. After a bit of fighting with himself, he lost the battle and opted to give into a bit of sleep. Bill sighed and laid down on his stomach, folding his arms on the ground and placing the side of his head atop them. In a matter of moments, his eyes shut and he felt the intoxicating urge for sleep surround him.
It wasn't until he heard the suspicious sound of footsteps that he opened his eyes. Looking straight forward, he could see a shadow coming closer under the crack in the bottom of the door. Bill saw the shadow come to a stop, the doorknob of the room wobbling slightly. He gasped and sat up on his knees, looking at the door to see Bratsman appear in the suddenly lit section of the dark room courtesy of the hallways lights.
Bratsman entered the room, keeping it slightly cracked open so he could check on the boys in the cage, making sure that they were all inside. He looked and saw four out of the five on the cage floor, fast asleep. He looked to the left of the cage, seeing Bill still awake. Bratsman narrowed his eyes, seeing the man's eyes glowing slightly in the dark. He assumed it to be a side effect from the boys' abilities he had never known about that still had yet to fully wear off. Ergman glared and walked towards the cage, looking on at the blonde who was still awake.
"Chris, what are you doing awake?" Bratsman asked, placing his hands on his hips.
"Uhh..." Bill began, trying to think up a quick excuse. He looked beside him before looking at Bratsman, saying, "I can't sleep." With a simple shrug.
Bratsman gave a scoff of disgust. "What, ya' got too accustom to your prettier, more comfortable life outta this place that you're too spoiled ta' fall asleep on the floor?" He scolded.
Bill gave a shake of his head. "No, it isn't that." He replied. "I just can't seem to get this dumb body to sleep like it should." He said.
Bratsman hummed. "Well you'd better get used to this life of sleepin' in your cage again, because you'll be expected to perform before ya' know it." He said.
"So the rumors were true..." Bill muttered, humming to himself.
"You'll need your beauty sleep," Bratsman continued. "You boys and your looks are what makes halfa' the money when ya' perform." He stated. He gave a slight smirk. "Besides, they also bring a lotta' ladies to the shows." He added.
Bill narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, well unless it'll also bring in an old, boring, basement-dwelling nerd who pulls off any colored sweater, I'm not interested." He stated.
Bratsman scoffed. "I don't care if you're interested or not," He said. "You'll be performing either way." He stated.
"Fine with me." Bill half-lied with a shrug. He didn't really know what he was supposed to do during these performances (Save what he had just recently picked up from the boys,) being that Bratsman hadn't trained them. Training, that was a thing, right?
"But what about our training?" Bill decided to question.
Bratsman shrugged at the question. "Originally, I was going to give you boys a little refresher on the routine we had planned last year," He responded. "But based on the amount of training you seemed to've done with each other today, it seems that you won't be needing it."
Bill gave a worried expression. "But wouldn't that still be important?" He asked. "Our memories are really bad." He stated.
Ergman glared. "Well I've already rented out the stage for tomorrow night, so you better practice some more!" He said, scowling.
Bill was taken aback. This man's logic was off. Very off. But he couldn't argue- he had to obey the stranger, at least for a bit. Come tomorrow, Bill was confident he would be ready to escape this terrible place.
"Now get some rest," Bratsman said. He put his hands behind his back before turning around to walk to the door. Bill watched him take his steps towards the door, only to see the man stop. Bratsman turned his head slightly, just barely glancing at Bill and saying,
"You have a show tomorrow..."
