Well, Emily had to admit, you could accuse the sadist robot bastards of a lot of things (and she had a long list), but you couldn't accuse them of not having a sense of humour. When she opened her eyes, it was to the same familiar, smooth grey ceiling she'd first woken up to after the crash. Emily let her gaze settle on it, patiently waiting for her mind to catch up. When the blurred edges of her sight smoothed over, she let her head flop to the side. Grey panelled walls with their embedded lights and flickering screens glinted back at her, as though she'd never left. There, just past the jut of her feet, the wide window stretched out, her cosplay voyeurs in their usual places, staring back at her through their strange masks - or not masks. Maybe that's how they were designed to look, by whoever made them.
"Emily," he said, at the other side of her. And of course, he would be here. She laughed, a tiny hiccup of sound bubbling out. It was utterly fucking hilarious - all of it. After everything she'd been through, they just put her back in here; in the same tiny dull room, on the same tiny hard bed and they what? Expected her to just pretend and go back to being a good little guinea pig, like she'd been before? Jesus Christ, they were a bunch of fucking comedians.
Emily was properly laughing now too; deep gasping chuckles that felt like they were punching their way out of her aching stomach. She had to press the heels of her hands into her eyeballs, just to stop them from feeling like they were trying to explode out of her head. Emily could smell it too, the chemical tang of the gel bandages swaddled around her body. It felt like they'd cocooned her in them; maybe hoping she'd eventually burst out like a beautiful butterfly - and weren't they going to be really fucking disappointed?
He said her name again, this time closer - too close. Emily felt the press of his hand on her shoulder and just like that, it wasn't funny anymore. Revulsion - the taste hot like bile in her mouth, swept over her at the heat of his skin on hers. "Don't touch me," she spat, blood and adrenaline rushing up to fill her head and pound in her ears, as she rolled off the bed. Emily couldn't remember having ever felt so much hatred in her body for someone. It felt like an anchor in her gut, keeping her legs steady on the ground, fuelling the fire burning through her muscles. She paced the room, head down, breathing in that feeling of rage like it was oxygen, avoiding even the sight of his face.
Then she spotted it. The steel bowl and spoon sat next to the bed, filled with that tasteless paste they were always trying to get her to eat. And wasn't that kind of them; to not just force it through a tube in her stomach like they had before? Emily figured she should probably show her appreciation of the gesture. She stooped down, ignoring the tight wrench of pain from her belly, and grabbed the metal edge, feeling the solid heft of it as she pulled the bowl into her hands. She lifted out the spoon, taking a moment to watch the gelatinous goop roll down the handle, then, with everything she had, Emily launched the bowl at the faces peering back at her through the glass screen.
The wide arcing spray of grey mush that splattered over the window and walls, as the metal bowl bounced against the flat glass was, quite simply, glorious. Beautiful. A work of fucking art. Ben said something from behind her, but Emily was too filled with inspiration to even pretend to give a fuck what he had to say. The spoon was steady and reassuring in her hand. Emily figured she'd test out that old plan of hers, the one she'd formulated before they decided to take her away and torture her.
Emily launched herself at one of the screens imbedded in the wall. She jammed the sharp edge of the spoon behind one of the raised bevels around the glowing blue glass, using both of her hands to lever it open until she could wedge her fingers in. She leaned back, using her weight to tug until the cover wrenched free, revealing a tangle of wires beneath. Excellent, maybe if she was lucky, she could electrocute herself and set the place on fire. Just as she buried her hands into the hot static mass of cables, two bigger hands clamped over her wrists and hauled her back. Ben was solid at her back, his grip tight against her, and Emily buckled and kicked and tried to twist out of his grasp, but he might as well have been rooted to the ground for all the difference her struggling made. He caged her against the wall; she could feel his breath hot on her neck as he said, "Emily, stop! Please stop."
Like fuck she was going to stop. She tried to get her knees up to the wall, using it to push back against him, but he didn't even flinch as she kicked out. "I'm not going to stop," she gasped, trying to stamp down on his feet. "I'm going to fight you every second I'm awake. I'll fucking chew through my own wrists if I have to. If you tie me down again, I'll just stop fucking breathing. Don't you get it? Let. Me. Die. You. Robot. Fucks."
Then Emily lunged forward and bit down on Ben's hand as hard as she could. He yelled from behind her, loud in her ear, as the salt copper tang of blood burst in her mouth. Oh, maybe he wasn't a robot after all. Emily kicked out again, and this time he did stumble back, his grip on her hands loosening enough that she managed to pull free. He was too close to the panel wires for her to go back down that route, so instead, Emily looked for the metal bowl around the ground near the window. On finding it, she picked it up, catching for a second the horrifying reflection of her face in the window, eyes wild and blood smeared and dripping down her chin. Then she fixed her eyes on the cosplayers behind the glass, brought up the bowl, and started to pound its metal side against the window, the surface of it vibrating with each blow, numbing her fingers and jarring her arm. The cosplayers stepped back - Goldfinger had her hand up at her chest, mouth open. If she was shocked now, then just wait. Emily was pretty sure she could tear this place apart, running on nothing but anger.
Then she caught sight of a wide-eyed face staring back at her, and all Emily could think was - Jamie? But it wasn't Jamie; it was the boy from before. He had the same short, dirty blonde hair as her nephew, she realised, but that was the only real similarity. Jamie was ten and played football and obsessed over Minecraft Youtube videos even though he never seemed to play the game. Jamie was bright and overactive and had started to develop a sharp, sarcastic attitude which exasperated everyone, but always secretly made Emily proud. Jamie wasn't here - had maybe never existed here - and Emily would never get to watch him grow up; would never know what kind of man he'd become. The bowl slipped from her hands and rang against the floor.
It abandoned her as fast as it came - the rage. She tried to hold on to it, needed it to keep her going, because as it slipped away, Emily realised that underneath it all was just emptiness. She couldn't keep fighting if she was empty. And God, she was exhausted. A tremble started from her feet, moving up in a wave through her body. She slumped down against the wall, turning just enough to prop herself up. Emily saw Ben standing at the edge of the room, his left hand covering his mouth, his right one dripping blood onto the floor. He looked horrified. Emily leaned back, trying to battle the creeping exhaustion. She didn't want to pass out and find herself strapped back in the box again. She just wanted it all to be over.
There was a sound to her right, a small whoosh and a puff of air stirred the hair on her head. Turning, Emily watched as the little green build-a-bear hobbled in, hunched over and leaning on a tiny knobbly stick that clicked where it hit the ground. She had never seen it walk before, had only seen it floating on a platform. Emily just figured that it wasn't a walking robot like the rest of them. It came to a stop in front of her; it's wrinkled, pointy-eared face on level with her own. Mossy green eyes, surprisingly life-like, stared back at her. A prickle ran over Emily's skin, making her shiver.
"What are you here to do?" she asked, her voice rough from shouting. The build-a-bear just kept looking at her. "If you're here in the hopes that I'll hug it all out like the Care Bears, then you're gonna be really fucking disappointed."
Its face shifted and moved, ears lowering and stretching out. It made a low noise, like a hum, and leaned towards her ever so slightly. Emily found herself leaning forwards a little too. And then whack! Quick like a snake, the little bastard snapped his hand forward and smacked Emily with his walking stick - right between her eyes.
"Ow, you little…what the fuck?!" she said, bringing her hand up to rub at her forehead.
It hadn't hit her hard, in fact it barely even stung, but the surprise of it had Emily blinking in disbelief as the thing pointed it's stick at her and commanded, in low, gravelly English: "Follow!" She watched as it turned without another word, and slowly clicked its way back out the door.
"Follow!" was heard again, fainter as it came from the room beyond. She wasn't sure why, but Emily turned to look at Ben, who was still standing there, bleeding all over the floor, with a face that almost looked as surprised as she felt. He caught her gaze, and nodded his head in the direction of her tiny attacker.
"You follow," Ben said, approaching her and cautiously offering the hand she hadn't bit. Emily ignored it; shuffling onto her side and then pulling herself up using the wall. Without the anger, every small movement she made felt like it took everything from her. She fumbled a little on unsteady feet towards the door, pausing at the threshold, the room beyond open to her. It was a trick, wasn't it? They would just lead her to another horrible place for another horrible round of experiments. Then again, if they wanted to, they could just knock her out and do that anyway. At least this way, she had a small chance to run or fight.
Emily stepped into the room that she'd only ever glimpsed from behind glass. It used to have lots of glowing, spinning things inside it, but now it was empty. The cosplayers watched her as she passed, standing back to give her space. They looked so real up-close. She could see the fine lines and wrinkles over the tanned skin of the one called Pea. Long, feathery eyelashes, each one like a moth's antenna, rimmed the silvery-mint green eyes of Goldfinger. The boy was there too, as gangly and slim as he had looked from the cell. He watched Emily intently as she passed; a shiver running down her neck when the air around him brushed against her body, strangely thick over her skin. A glance back showed everyone still rooted in place; no-one made a move to follow her. She passed through into a short corridor, the build-a-bear was waiting for her at the other end. Emily nearly fell on top of the little gremlin when she reached his side, her knees going weak at the sight of what lay beyond the door.
A hallway stretched out beyond them. Well - a hallway in the same way the Pyramids could be thought of as a stack of bricks in some sand. Hundreds of pillars stretched out, each one wider than any tree trunk, smooth silver and ebony layers reaching up hundreds of feet, supporting a vaulted roof of carved rose-pink stone, translucent like a seashell. Archway after archway lined the room, gleaming amber light across massive floors of golden marble and turquoise inlay. Voices murmured and echoed all around, people moving across raised walkways, or passing underneath them on the lower levels. Emily found herself sliding down the doorway until she was sat on the floor.
"What do you want from me?" she eventually managed to say. Figures dressed in every shade of brown conceivable, some human looking - others fantastical - walked by them, talking and laughing, as though it was just a normal day. The build-a-bear had been watching her silently. He took a few steps towards her, holding her eye for a long moment before nodding, his ears drooping. He reached a little clawed hand out and patted her on the knee. Then he turned and slowly waddled away, hunched over his stick, leaving Emily alone in the warm, amber light of a startling new world.