Yeah, idk. R&R please!
WARNING: Contains violence.
DISCLAIMER: See first chapter.
Break
Rating: T
Genre: Drama/Angst
Click…click…click…click…
He could not see him, at least not yet, but Chatter Telephone knew the last toy he wanted to see had entered the Butterfly Room. His cane tapped softly against the thin tiled floor at every other step. Chatter knew where the strawberry scented warden strode by simply listening to the pattern of the cane's beats. Soon enough, several pairs of plastic feet joined the monotonous taps. Escape seemed impossible then.
They searched for him. They noticed the vacancy of the toy shelves underneath the classroom's windows. They realized their prisoners had broken out. They knew those prisoners could not have done it by themselves.
The wheeled telephone toy had lived within the harsh, dictatorial prison that was Sunnyside Daycare for years, long before Lotso took control. After the pink bear arrived, though, the toy telephone was forced to watch the lives of many of his friends get destroyed and witness the premature ends of many others. He did not know how he managed to survive as long as he had. He was one of the worst rebels to oppose Lotso's power.
He attempted to escape several times and nearly succeeded twice, but each time the cymbal monkey had given him away. Lotso punished him each time he tried, wanting nothing else but to break the toy telephone of his resolve and defiance. Yet, Chatter remained steadfast and resisted with the hope that maybe, one day, Sunnyside could return to the paradise it once was for toys.
The frequency of his battles against Lotso lessened after his last escape attempt, but he still continued to fight by giving direction and advice to other poor, innocent toys. None of their prison breaks proved successful, however, and several of those who tried no longer resided at the daycare. Chatter saw the failures as opportunities, though, and learned through his and the other's mistakes. He needed to find a weakness in Lotso's tricky security system. Nothing was perfect, after all.
When the plastic telephone first caught sight of Woody and his family, he knew the hopeful toys had no idea about what they had gotten themselves into. He wished to warn them and risked a chance to tell the cowboy by running into his leg, but Lotso gave him a discreet, but threatening glare. Chatter assumed the new batch of toys had no capability to escape like the others and remained silent. That was until the cowboy had actually managed to slip out of the daycare and, in a disbelievingly act of courage, return to rescue his friends.
That's when Chatter knew those toys were different than the others. They had enough determination to actually succeed in breaking out of Lotso's toy prison. Thus, the plastic telephone told Woody everything and then sat and watched the cowboy and his friends put their plan into motion. They accomplished the task of getting everyone outside and the toy telephone could only wish them luck as they made their way toward the trash chute, the doorway out of the prison walls.
Naught five minutes later, Chatter heard the bathroom door open. He did know how the pink bear had figured out his prisoners were no longer imprisoned, but he had found out quickly and wished to "fix" the problem just as fast.
The toy telephone hid within the shadows of the puppet theatre, desperately trying to keep out of sight of Lotso and his lackeys. Whenever he moved, though, his wheels would whine noisily. He could not move without giving away his position.
Suddenly, the taps of the cane stopped. Silence eerily descended upon the whole room, tightening the pressure of the air. He searched the area surrounding him, but he could not see much beyond the thick darkness underneath the theatre. Lotso was still out there, he was sure of it.
Something swiftly slammed into his right side. He slid across the slick tile because of the force behind the attack. In another second, a piece of plastic rammed into the side of his face, smearing the painted cheek on his front. Quickly, objects of assault hurled at him from everywhere, denting, scratching, and scarring him until they succeeded in pushing him completely out from underneath the theatre.
Chatter painfully tried to gain control of his wheels, but he could not stop himself from rolling into another toy. Wincing from the rough impact, the toy telephone slowly glanced up the pink, fuzzy bear that loomed over his injured form. Just the sight of him caused Chatter to glare.
"Chatter Telephone," Lotso began, keeping his face expressionless. "I shoulda known you were behind all of this. And here I was, thinking I already got through that thick dial of yours."
The telephone could not answer due to his receiver still resting on his back. All he could do was glare, but he could not help but feel feeble under the bear's ominous gaze. He soon noticed that several of Lotso's lackeys surrounded him from all sides. He was trapped.
Twitch struck him, aiming his staff specifically at the receiver and harshly knocked it off its slot. The sound of heavy breathing reached the ears of all the toys.
"Now, tell me Chatter," The bear leaned down so his face hung a few inches in front of the telephone's. "Where are they? Where do they plan to go?"
Chatter remained silent and continued to breathe deeply to ease his pain. Lotso would not wait another frustrating moment for him to answer, however. The bear bashed his cane against the telephone's plastic front, smudging his painted smile.
"Things don't gotta be like this." Lotso informed casually. "Tell us what we want to know, and you're free to go."
Still no answer. The bear responded with a few more strikes from his cane, making sure the power behind each thrash increased in strength. Chatter grunted agonizingly, his old body unable to withstand the brunt of the beating.
"Well?"
Nothing. Another assault. Soon enough, the others joined in the torture, slamming their own weapons and fists into his sides, his face, his wheels. He could feel his plastic denting, his paint smudging, his dial breaking. The telephone kept his eyes closed firmly, knowing that if he did look at Lotso, he would break. Amid the pain, he saw faces of old friends long gone, of young toys thrown in the trash…he felt as if all the agony he had experienced at Sunnyside was enveloping him in a rush. It had continued on for years, when would it all end? Would it ever end?
He did not know how much more he could take.
"Where are they going?" Lotso rounded on him again, no longer taking the time to pause in his attacks. "Tell us!"
He should not have…but he could not suffer any longer.
"The trash chute…" Chatter murmured through the throbs that racked his body. "The-the cowboy took t-them to the trash ch-chute…"
The flogging ceased. Pain pulsed throughout his entire body. He desperately clung to consciousness, but could not open his eyes, especially since one had been beaten closed. He sat there, trying to hear any conversation between Lotso and his lackeys.
"…should we just leave him?"
"No," Lotso answered gruffly. "Bring him with. I wanna show that cowboy what happens when toys like him defy my rules."
Chatter could not help the guilt sensation that quickly aroused within him. He had told Woody they would never break him, vowed to himself that he would never fall victim to Lotso's power.
What a great big lie.
"I'm sorry cowboy…they broke me."