Vanessa saw that it was almost 6:00 AM. She was heading out when a strange figure sprung out in front of her. It was possibly the pastiest white guy she had ever seen, tall and as thin as a man could be without appearing anorexic. He was wearing a magician outfit, plus a black cape lined with blue, and a white opera mask, the eyeholes of which revealed two icy-blue eyes. She was one hundred-percent sure that no staff, owners or even stockholders of this place looked even remotely like this guy.
"Beware!" he said, in a tone as theatrical as his appearance would lead one to expect. "A terrible evil has come upon this place! I am here to deliver you your destiny. You are destined to become a guardian!"
Vanessa quickly recovered from the shock, and snapped, "I already am, and that's why I'm phoning the police." She pulled out her phone, and turned it on, only to find that it, her mobile phone, had turned on to TV-like static, along with the associated noise.
"What the hell?" she asked.
"This place has invited a rift. The greed of your employers, the dark dealings they work behind the scenes, it has invited something terrible, and you must accept the destiny to banish their patrons back to the darkness from whence they came!" said the freak.
"I'm going outside to get phone reception so I can call someone to 'banish' you back to 'whence' you came." she said, walking towards an exit, in spite of the fact that her phone's issues were obviously more than bad reception..
Behind her, Opera Penguin let one corner of his mouth inch up.
She put her hand on the exit. A wave of electric pain swept through Vanessa's body. It shook her mind. She screamed and fell in the fetal position.
"Please. Let me awaken you. You need the power to overcome this place, even if just to go home." said Opera Penguin.
"Fine, just do whatever it is you're trying to get me to let you do, as long as it's not some kind of. . ." Vanessa trailed off, not wanting to voice her concerns out loud.
"Just let me touch your head." said Opera Penguin.
He did. She screamed, as even more pain rushed into her, before the wave of agony passed.
"You're the one doing this, this whole door thing, aren't you?" Vanessa snapped, shuddering as she mentally recovered.
"Oh, no!" Opera Penguin lied. He had to establish the completely fake antagonistic force somehow. "It's the encroaching power of. . ." his mind raced for a random name, until he remembered that ambiguity was scarier, "something! I don't know, but it's from another plane, and it's trying to trap you here! But you can break free using your magical powers!"
Vanessa stared at him like he was mentally challenged, which was fair.
"What do I do now?" asked Vanessa.
"Reach inside yourself. Bring out the power inside you." said Opera Penguin.
"What does that mean?" Vanessa asked.
"Just. . . do it." he said, his theatrically flair beginning to tire out.
She, strangely, did it. She glowed brightly, her clothes shifted, her nerves tingled. . .
and she changed.
"Excuse me, what the hell is this dress?" she asked, looking down at her new outfit.
"Oh dear, it turned out somewhat strange this time." said Opera Penguin.
The dress certainly seemed to 'grip' at and outline certain features which were not comfortable in this position, even though her torso was fully covered. Her frilly skirt was shorter than she would like under any circumstances, though it was more than twice the length of a full-on miniskirt. The remainder of her legs was mostly covered by dark leggings, ending in fancy boots. Likewise, her dress' sleeves were short and poofy, like a stereotypical princess dress' sleeves, but had separate long sleeves punctuated by fingerless gloves. Finally, she felt the scratch of a yellow bow under her neck.
"Worry not," Opera Penguin said, "I'm sure you'll be able to control how it manifests in future."
"Ugh." Vanessa said, and then strode out. She felt the pain coming on again, but strangely, somehow, she was able to 'push it outwards', it becoming a mere, dull ache, dancing in what felt like a halo around her skin.
. . .
Opera Penguin slipped back downstairs, and returned to the dream.
"Why did you torture her like that?" Afton asked. "It seemed like far more pain than you use to dissuade what you'd call improper name usage."
"Just a little dark remnant can be used to produce a lot of energy out of negative sensation, physical ones included." said Opera Penguin. "Of course, there was no dark remnant in what you'd call the 'final product', it was just used to create the fuel for my creation."
"You like making people suffer, don't you?" asked Afton.
"Who's talking?" teased Opera Penguin.
"Touche." said Afton. "Anyway, what do we do now?"
"Now, we wait." said Penguin. "To pass the time, how about you tell me about the 'bad times'?"
"Well, you know I've been in a power struggle with all the others. In a sense, I'm like them. I'm at the top. But there was a time when I was overthrown. Somehow, they managed to create a hell, just for me. A dream of sorts, no, a nightmare. A place not unlike this one. They teased me, looping an endless dream in which I cowered in a security guard office, just like a night guard would have in the past. Sometimes I survived to the end, just to have it loop. Sometimes, they killed me, and they would whisper to me, mocking me, before looping the night anyway. I tried to bend the dream, to escape from them to push them out. They would always come back and laugh at me. To mock me more, they would give me a sort of currency with which to make bargains with them, for mercy, whenever I survived." said William Afton. "Then they started assaulting me with frivolous visions in between the loops. Mock theatres of their perverse conceptions of friendship, love and rivalry. At first, it was only periodic, but eventually it completely replaced the 'security guard' dreams. They played endless renditions, completely immersed in their mock 'love', in spite of the fact that they knew very well that the ones they were 'in love with' would be their mortal nemeses in the next rendition. The setting was always a distorted, inaccurate form of one of the old locations. They didn't always even incorporate me, leaving me as a formless observer of their despicable theatre of the mind. But when they did, either they made me a cruel villain, to be defeated, or simply the catalyst of some melodramatic tragedy. The number of times I've been made to pull out a gun and shoot some pink-and-white moping cartoon character is uncountable. Except that I know the number, because, somehow, everything that ever happened in those dreams is burned photographically into my memory. Every sickly line, every lurid gaze, every histrionic sob."
"Interesting. You know, this dream needs some furniture." said Opera Penguin. He waved an arm, and a couch, a coffee table and a shelf on which a television sat.
"What good will that television be? This is a dream, right? Unless. . ." said William Afton. "You want to, what, think my memories onto that screen?"
"You could try." said Opera Penguin. "But mainly I was actually planning on getting this dream a connection to a TV station and/or the Internet."
"I would prefer that." said Afton.
"Too late. You've put the idea in my head. Show me everything. But start with the worst. It might inspire me in my torture of Rochelle."
. . .
In the daytime, it turned out that Roxanne's raceway was repaired, and so she returned to her usual routine. But the racetrack felt more distant than ever, even as she zoomed across it. Of course, she never let herself lose, but there was a close call. The fourteen-year-old who almost beat her strangely wasn't furious, as she would be, but instead winked at her, in a strange, smug sort of way. She was suddenly much more conscious of it. She realized she still could perceive with the restored consciousness she had been given, even when she wasn't Rochelle, but she had little control over herself.
She just managed to croak out a "What" before relapsing into her automated state.
"What do you mean, 'what'?" the kid asked. "Hey, I heard you dance real nice when you win. Not feeling so perky today?"
She managed to break the surface again. "Shut up." she managed to say, quietly.
"Oooh. Sassy." the kid said, as he walked off, smiling.
Oddly, she felt good. Like, she had obtained something she needed.
Silly, silly Roxanne. Opera Penguin's voice rung in her head out of nowhere. Always working hard to be loved while remaining unlovable. Doing only what will keep up the appearance you hope to project.
She suddenly let out a sob, audibly. (In his dream realm, Opera Penguin checked a check-box next to the words 'histrionic sob', though he then penned a question mark after 'histrionic', along with a note to look up what that word meant. He then shuffled through his notes, looking to fulfill the other items on the list of check-boxes.)
"What's wrong, Roxy?" a little girl, maybe eight, who had stepped up to race next, asked her.
"Nothing, I was just. . . yawning." said Roxanne.
. . .
Night 3
The next night, Gregory tore out of Freddy's chest so fast he flopped down on the floor.
Freddy changed to Ferdinand and called out to Gregory.
"I'm alright." Gregory said, though he was crying. "At least, better than I was a moment ago."
"Are they still tormenting you?" Ferdinand asked.
"No. It's just black and lonely and I'm left with only my thoughts in there." Gregory replied.
"Let us get you some food. And then, maybe I will introduce you to Bon—I mean, Bernard." said Ferdinand.
Gregory met Bernard.
"He is my friend from way back. I have missed him for so long, and I am afraid I owe it to your tormentor that he has returned." said Ferdinand.
"So you see already the kind of man he is." said Bernard.
"I, am afraid so." said Ferdinand.
"What can we do about him?" Gregory asked.
"That's the thing." said Bernard. "Nothing. There's absolutely nothing we can do and if we try, he'll just play with us more cruelly."
"There has to be something!" Gregory said.
"Not that I can see. Look, I don't like him either, but it's best just to take what little joy you can until some opportunity presents itself to take him down. Of course, he can hear me saying this, but he'd hear me thinking it anyway. He's human, but not like any human from this world. He's got powers like you'd think a demon would have, but they're all his." said Bernard.
"Bernard, please do not frighten Gregory unnecessarily." said Ferdinand.
"What worse can he do?" Gregory asked.
"Deny you any chance at feeling some kind of happiness. I'm sure you can find something to do here. Just don't do anything rash." said Bernard.
"So what have you been doing?" asked Gregory.
"Practicing guitar." said Bernard. "Sorry, but I don't think there are any instruments you could use here."
"Oh." said Gregory.
A drum set materialized next to Gregory.
Try it. said Opera Penguin's voice.
He tried, but had no idea how to practice it, and it was too big.
He slumped, and said "I'm hungry."
"Well then," said Ferdinand, "time to head towards the kitchen."
They did.
"Isn't there anything else than pizza?" asked Gregory.
"I, I do not know." said Ferdinand.
Suddenly, Ferdinand's head was slapped from behind.
"USE CONTRACTIONS, ASSHAT!" shouted Opera Penguin, who shoved Ferdinand aside, knocking him into the wall and nearly onto his posterior, and handed Gregory a big chicken sandwich, a glossy burger bun holding a spicy, crispy chicken tenderloin with green onions and jalapeno poppers, as well as a generous serving of bechamel practically dripping from inside.
Gregory took it, thanking Opera Penguin with the utmost sincerity, and then devoured the burger.
After this, Opera Penguin laughed. "So you don't care if I physically and verbally abuse your friend, as long as I give you food? How characteristic of you, Gregory."
Gregory sagged.
Ferdinand place a hand on Gregory's shoulder. "It is okay, Gregory. It did not hurt that much, and his offer was kind enough. But the fact that he used it to attempt to guilt you serves as a reminder that he is not a friend."
"So now you're trying to shield him from his own conscience, as well?" asked Rochelle, who had snuck in.
"Hey! Look who's talking!" snapped Gregory.
"Oh boy. I'm out." said Opera Penguin, smirking like a jackass, before stepping back and vanishing.
"Please, do not fight. We have no reason not to be friends, right?" asked Ferdinand.
"I don't know, the fact that I had to suffer because of something she did kind of makes me feel bad about her." said Gregory.
"So what? You snuck in here to steal food. You're a parasite." said Rochelle.
"You said that already." said Gregory, flatly.
"When?" asked Rochelle.
"Rochelle, I believe he may have been exposed to our opinions of him before even speaking to anyone but me." said Ferdinand.
"Then I don't need to say anything." said Rochelle, then spun around, heel kicked up towards Gregory, and strode off.
". . .you didn't need to open your mouth in the first place, bi-" Gregory said, before Ferdinand cut off with "Please, Gregory, try to understand that she is not given to kind words. I do not fully understand the nature of our existence, but I believe that it is possible that much of who we are was made for us, and before now, we have had little if any control over who we are. It is like we have been sleepwalking for our entire lives, and dreaming of being who we were, before waking up to be who we now are."
"That sounds really weird and philosophical, but I think I get it." Gregory said. "You think you just had to be the people you were made as before, and you only get to choose your personalities now?"
"Yes, but even now, we are using those ingrained personalities as our starting point." said Ferdinand. "When we were given life, our technological personalities, which did exist on a spiritual level but were not part of us, became part of us, and now we are who we were, but now have the ability to be conscious of our own nature and actions."
"And how do you feel?" asked Gregory.
"Changed." said Ferdinand. "In all honesty, I may have reproved your demeanor when first meeting me, were I like this before. Consider, if you will, my lack of hostility towards you, in the face of your aggressive state of panic, even though you were an intruder."
Gregory looked down a bit. "Sorry, I know I get a bit. . ."
But Ferdinand continued: "I am not asking for an apology, I am just pointing out that my AI, as that is what it was at that time, was set to be unconditionally friendly and jovial, with a simple, gentle urging towards guests to leave after hours."
"You did freak out when I told you I climbed inside of you." pointed out Gregory.
"That was merely a way of expressing danger, to avoid lawsuits, you know." said Ferdinand. "I do not think these people who designed. . . "me". . . really cared about human life." he added, bitterly. "I think he has some part in this place."
"Who?" asked Gregory.
"Someone down below this building. He had some power over all of us. But not over humans. Really, not over anyone living." said Ferdinand.
"Living?" asked Gregory.
"It is. . . best not to worry about these things I am telling you. Do not fear: I am very much alive now." said Ferdinand. "Although I have a feeling that I will never be human like you are."
"Well no, you're a bear. . . man." said Gregory.
"That is right. I am a bear. . . man." said Ferdinand.
"Do you think that guy," said Gregory, Ferdinand cutting in with "Opera Penguin is what he calls himself", "yeah, Opera Penguin really hates Rochelle and Cheyenne?"
Ferdinand was taken aback.
"Why do you ask that?" he asked.
"Well after you gave me this Fazwatch, I've been reading some old messages, and it seems like Chica—I mean, Cheyenne, really just takes things for herself. People generally don't, well, offer her things." said Gregory.
"You were conscious after being dumped out?" asked Ferdinand.
"Yeah, I just, well, didn't feel like moving very much." said Gregory.
"Oh." said Ferdinand, hanging his head slightly.
"Hey! It isn't your fault!" said Gregory, unwittingly reverting to the same whiny voice with which he had originally addressed Freddy in his green room, running up to Ferdinand and hugging him again.
"I am glad you think so, Gregory." said Ferdinand, miserably.
"Anyway, then there's Roxy," said Gregory, "or I guess she's called Rochelle now, who apparently needs love. Ha!" The laugh was far more tired and derisive than any twelve-year-old's should be.
"Gregory, that isn't very-" Ferdinand said.
"Oh look, you can talk like a normal person." said Opera Penguin.
"Ah!" Gregory cried out, jumping back and falling onto his butt.
"Come on, now, don't be pathetic." said Opera Penguin. "You're not in any more danger when I'm here with you. By which I mean, you're not in any less danger when I'm far away."
Gregory harrumphed audibly.
"Anyway, I'm just here to inform you that you are still in danger, and that bunny lady will still try to harm you." said Opera Penguin.
"Won't you do something about her?" asked Ferdinand.
"I, uhh, can't find her." said Opera Penguin.
"I had the impression that you had some sort of second sight." said Ferdinand.
"Well, some beings have the power to block being viewed in such ways." said Opera Penguin. "Also, my powers may or may not have stirred up some. . . beings. . . from another dimension. Some creatures don't like other creatures that have power edging in on their territory, you know, and sometimes that includes even being in the neighboring world. So watch out for those. They'll probably try to take on the forms of familiar sights, like, maybe, animatronics from the past, but I can assure you that they are evil and they will kill you if they can."
"Oh." said Gregory.
"You seem morose. Go talk to a girl or something. Oh wait, you can't, really. . ." said Opera Penguin, before laughing, and vanishing.
"That is not true. Rochelle and Cheyenne are here, though you seem to have a grudge against the former." said Ferdinand.
"That's not what he meant." said Gregory. "He meant, like, a girl my age, who likes me and doesn't want to kill me."
"Gregory! I can assure you that neither of them-" Ferdinand caught Gregory's gaze, "or at least, that Cheyenne would never hurt you. In fact, since you seem to be living here from now on, I might as well introduce you—please, try to be open to her, she meant no harm before."
Gregory was silent for a moment, before concluding the silence with an ". . .ok."
"Then it's back to the kitchen. We're making a pizza for her." said Freddy.
"She eats whole pizzas?" Gregory asked.
"Given about fifteen minutes, yes." said Ferdinand.
"Oh, that's reasonable." said Gregory.
"Given that they're extra large." said Ferdinand.
"Are you kidding?" Gregory asked.
"Well, it is better than seeing her become sick." said Ferdinand.
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." said Gregory. "Pretty ironic that that keeps her from getting sick."
They made a pizza, after Ferdinand fended off some S.T.A.F.F bots that protested the two's use of the ingredients dispenser and the oven.
Ferdinand held the pizza at chest height while Gregory stabilized it from below. Ferdinand wasn't sure Cheyenne would actually refuse the pizza if they did drop it, but he didn't want to make any risks. After all, Cheyenne now had fully-functioning taste buds.
When they came into her green room, Cheyenne was sitting on her couch, pensive. She brightened up when she saw them, and the pizza.
Cheyenne's new face was much more soulful than either an animatronic or an animal would be. Her eyes were proportionally larger, and closer to her beak, and her head was shorter than an actual chicken's would be. This, along with the existing garish color scheme she still bore, gave her much the same appearance as her old self. She was almost beautiful, but, though Gregory was not nearly as vengeful towards her as towards Rochelle, he still was hesitant to forget what she had done.
Gregory stared her down as he tore into the pizza. Eventually, she looked up at him, asking, "Oh, sorry—did you want some?"
"No thanks, I'm not hungry." said Gregory. It was true, mainly because of the chicken sandwich, but even if not for that, the violent and unruly way Cheyenne brutalized her pizza would have swept the rug out from under his appetite. It wasn't dissimilar to the way an eagle attacked and choked down a mouse, bearing the same blunt, visceral savagery.
Gregory noticed that, though the pink plumage on her cheeks seemed to be a 'natural' part of her body, her lipstick was now quite separate, as it smeared off as she consumed the pizza in a manner that would have the Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth staring through his palms in disgust.
As she finished the pizza, she slowed down a bit, and stared at Gregory, with a somewhat friendly expression. Gregory decided he'd suck it up and try to make friends with her.
"Hi." he said.
"Hi, sorry about, you know. Before." Cheyenne said.
"It's okay, I guess." said Gregory.
"You're. . .?" Cheyenne asked. It was an odd way to ask his name, to Gregory.
"Gregory." he said
"I want you to know, I didn't really support the whole, giving you to Opera Penguin, thing." Cheyenne added.
"I can believe you on that." said Gregory. "You feel sorry for me, don't you?"
"Why do you say that?" asked Cheyenne.
Rather than answering, Gregory continued on. "You think I'm a sad little kid and I can't fend for myself." Even he heard how hollow his voice sounded. "You feel. . . regret," he added, dropping that last word like a lament regarding Hungry, Hungry Hippos, "about my whole deal."
"Gregory, please, you are acting in a concerning manner." said Ferdinand.
"What makes you think that?" asked Cheyenne.
Gregory decided that, after acting all weird, he owed it to Cheyenne to be open. "I heard all of you talking to me in a dream. It was like you all. . . hated me. . . except Freddy." he said.
"Ferdinand." said Ferdinand, quickly, fearing the shock.
"No. . . you were still Freddy back then, and you were the one dissonant note in a chorus that was one-dimensionally belittling me." said Gregory.
"Aww, Gregory, I didn't ever mean to say anything mean to you! I don't remember even saying that much." Cheyenne said. "Sorry."
"No no, it wasn't something you said in person, I more, sort of. . . heard your voice. In the black place." said Gregory.
"Well, I hope I can make it up to you. Do you like mazes?" Cheyenne asked.
"No, but thank you." said Gregory.
"Well, you should meet Roxa—I mean, Rochelle." said Cheyenne. "She's my best friend."
Gregory cringed.
"What's wrong?" asked Cheyenne.
"Uhhm, I'd just rather not. In fact, how about we go meet Morty?" asked Gregory.
"Aww, come on! It'll only take a little while, and she was coming over right now anyway!" said Cheyenne.
"What?!" Gregory asked, springing up so fast he nearly fainted.
"Gregory, calm down. You don't have to be scared of her-
"I'm not scared of her, I just can't-" Gregory paused, looking at Cheyenne.
He was trying to think up an excuse as to why he didn't want to 'be introduced' to Rochelle without telling Cheyenne plainly that he hated her friend, when Rochelle strode in, carrying an extra-large pizza all by herself.
She and Gregory locked eyes. Then she saw the empty platter and Ferdinand.
She nearly dropped her plate in a fit of betrayal, rage and humiliation.
"You." she said, shaking with fury. Gregory wasn't sure if it was addressed to him, Ferdinand or both of them, but what was certain was that she was pissed.
"What is wrong?" asked Ferdinand, either feigning or truly being in a state of sweet, blissful ignorance.
Rochelle placed down her platter on top of the old one.
"Ooh! Thanks, Rochelle! But I might not be able to finish this one after just having finished up the one they gave me!" Cheyenne said, cheerfully.
Rochelle stared at Cheyenne, and then turned to Gregory. "You win this time." she snarled quietly.
Cheyenne was confused. "What's she talking about, Gregory?" she asked.
"I don't know. She's your friend, not mine." said Gregory.
"You know what." said Rochelle. "Why don't you just scram before I think up a creative way to illustrate my point?"
"Rochelle. . ." Ferdinand said.
"Nah, it's alright." Gregory said, and slipped out of the room, Ferdinand following.
They headed to Monsanto's room, but it was empty, and also still torn up.
They then went to Monty Golf, and found Monsanto trying to invent golf trick shots.
"Oh hey there, little guy!" Monsanto said when he noticed Gregory and Ferdinand, spinning around and dropping the golf club, clearly embarrassed.
His mane of hair was noticeably broader, in spite of his alligator carapace.
"You can just golf normally, you know?" asked Gregory.
"I-I don't know what you mean." said Monsanto. "Normally instead of what?"
Gregory picked up the discarded golf club, stuck out his leg as if to trip someone, propped the golf club up against it on the side that was towards the ball, and slapped the top end of the golf club in the direction opposite the ball, flipping the bottom end like a lever and striking the ball.
Monsanto stared as if Gregory had just squawked like an imbecile and dropped a deuce straight in the center of the golf course.
"I mean, stuff like that." said Gregory.
"You think you're funny, don't you?" asked Monsanto, only slightly aggressive.
"I dunno. But, for your information, it takes eighteen years from birth to grow up, and I'm only a little more than two thirds along that way." said Gregory.
"How did you know I was wondering about that?" asked Monsanto.
"Reasons." Gregory said, flippantly.
"Anyway, why did you come over here anyway?" asked Monsanto, now considerably more humorless than before.
"To meet you." said Gregory.
"So you want to make friends with people?" asked Monsanto.
"Some people." said Gregory, after a moment to think.
"Well, I got some advice for you." said Monsanto. "Don't freak people out by reading their minds or whatever and then not at least de-escalate the situation by telling them how you did it."
"Okay, fine, I overheard your big head when I was being turned into a freak." said Gregory.
"Jeez, kid, just relax, it's just some facepaint or whatever." said Monsanto, walking up to Gregory, grabbing his face and scratching at it.
"Oww! That hurts!" Gregory yelled.
"Hey, why isn't it coming off?" asked Monsanto.
"Monty—AHH!" shouted Ferdinand, before convulsing and dropping to his knees, his head and neck twitching. "I mean Monsanto! Stop! It is his face! There is no face paint!"
Gregory was bleeding slightly from his face. Monsanto put him down.
"Alright, kid. I'm sorry you had to go through. . . whatever you had to go through." said Monsanto, not sounding that sorry.
"It's alright." said Gregory.
"Try not to tear each other apart." said Bernard, who had just walked in.
"And what's with you?" Monsanto asked. "Why are you suddenly. . . not dead? Or whatever you'd say?"
"The magician brought me back." said Bernard. "Though I wouldn't say I was any less dead before the incident."
"Well, heh-heh, I'm glad you think so." said Monsanto, nervously averting his gaze.
"What incident?" Gregory asked.
"The animatronics we were, or were inhabiting, had built-in characteristic 'quirks'." said Bernard. "Someone thought it would be funny to give Monty a literal berserk streak. So, when he came over to Bonnie Bowling, and didn't pick up the art quickly enough for his liking, he decided that throwing a bowling ball in a random direction was the only logical response. Naturally, since this could have killed someone, I, or, well, Bonnie, intercepted the ball. With my, well, his, face."
"So, did you have one?" Gregory asked.
"One what? A face? Well, I did, until the bowling ball smashed through it." Bernard asked.
"A personality quirk, or whatever you said." said Gregory.
"I did. But the way I was resurrected by Opera Penguin, my more inherent essence has predominated over the shell. Unfortunately, the other have been reborn as one with their shells." said Bernard.
"Huh? What do you mean?" Monsanto asked.
"Deep inside, you weren't truly 'Monty' when you simply 'were' an animatronic." said Bernard. "You were a dead and dreaming child. But now you've been reborn. Now you're a living child of the night. Not undead, but dead to who you once were."
"Hey, I'm, like, this tall!" yelled Monsanto, gesturing with his hands as to his height.
"The fact that you use height as a measure of maturity proves my point." said Bernard, sighing.
Monsanto harrumphed, audibly.
"Anyway, why are you around here?" Monsanto asked.
"Ferdinand is my best friend. Since I wasn't quite sure if you were stable. . ." said Bernard, turning his head towards Gregory's scratched-up face.
"Hey, I wasn't trying to hurt him, I just tried to clean off his face but that gunk won't come off." said Monsanto.
"I'm not talking about whether you mean well, I'm talking about whether you're stable." said Bernard.
"Okay, fine." said Monsanto, sullenly. He then turned to Gregory. "Are you going to play mini-golf here or something?"
"Nahh, I actually suck at it." said Gregory. "Also I'm gonna go look for a bathroom."
"Do you mind if I stay here? I feel like we have a lot to talk about." Ferdinand said, momentarily shooting a slightly unhappy look at Monsanto, who sighed.
"Nah that's alright, I think I know where they are." said Gregory.
He walked off towards the bathrooms, found them, used them, and stepped out just in time to get grabbed by the shoulder by Rochelle. Her claws dug into him.
"Listen, kid. I'll tolerate you. I'll even share my friends. But remember just who you are. You're a rat. You're in here on an act of grace from some creepy white guy in a bad Phantom of the Opera costume. Remember your place. Don't you dare think you can replace me." Rochelle said.
"What are you talking about?" Gregory asked.
"The first thing I gave Cheyenne was supposed to be special, and you made it worthless. I'll let that slide, because it's better for both of us that I do. But you'd better watch it. Because if you try and take away my life just as I'm given the chance to make it complete, to be beautiful. . . I'll rip you to pieces."
"Wait, I thought you thought you were beautiful already?" Gregory said.
"You-" Rochelle snapped, before trying to calm herself. "I am."
"Are what?" Gregory asked.
"I am beautiful, damn it!" Rochelle practically screamed into his face. Gregory caught himself silently wishing she were pulling on her hair for enhanced comedic effect, and stifled a laugh at the thought.
"'kay then." said Gregory, who then gently slipped out of her suddenly-loosened grasp and darted off.
"You little bastard." Rochelle said, quietly.
"Hey there." said Opera Penguin, who was suddenly right next to her.
"When did you come in here?" Rochelle said, half angry and half terrified.
"Oh, I was just hanging around. You'd be surprised how much entertainment you provide when you're around that kid." said Opera Penguin.
"So you're just stalking me now?" asked Rochelle.
"Rochelle, I'm constantly stalking everyone." said Opera Penguin.
. . .
Nights 4-6 (Mostly uneventful)
Some days passed. Opera Penguin was really intent on seeing if what was once his checklist, now a bingo chart with the help of Afton, of silly behaviors found in the 'bad dream' could be fulfilled in Roxanne/Rochelle.
In the meanwhile, Rochelle was becoming extremely hostile towards Gregory, causing Ferdinand to become more protective of him. The two of them often played golf with Monsanto, and they tried to figure out which combination of pizza toppings Cheyenne liked the best. Making sure there's no way I can be of any help to her. Rochelle thought. She was sure that little gremlin was orchestrating this ostracism. Never mind the fact that she was hanging back and seething, that was just the effect of Gregory on the atmosphere that caused her to do that.
. . .
Night 7
One day, though, Rochelle somehow managed to find Opera Penguin, loitering around at about the same place he had bothered her after she threatened Gregory.
"Leave me alone!" she screamed at him.
"You're the one coming in here and screaming at me." he said, simply.
"You know what I mean. Get out of my head." said Rochelle.
"Out of your head? Are you hearing voices, Rochelle?" asked Opera Penguin. "That's concerning, maybe we should get a psychiatrist in here."
"Don't bullshit me!" screamed Rochelle.
"I do wish you would stop screeching like that. It's unbecoming." said Opera Penguin, smugly. "Maybe it's part of your mental health issue, with the hearing voices and thing."
"You're saying you're not talking into my mind?" asked Rochelle, in a disbelieving tone.
"Talking into your mind? What a novel idea." said Opera Penguin. "I suppose the ravings of a madwoman can be good inspiration, after all."
"But-you-ghu-!" Rochelle started tearing up and trying to choke back yet more sobs.
Very discreetly, Opera Penguin marked off 'gets gaslit very easily' on his paper. "Please, give me my privacy, I came here to think, not to have the oblivion of your mind forced on me." he said.
"You're obviously screwing around with me! You've already shown that you can do that stu-" Rochelle said, before a knife stabbed her.
Rochelle screamed, as she whirled around.
"I was also looking for a certain someone, to have a chat." said Opera Penguin.
"What the hell? Vanessa, you bitch! Don't think I don't know that that's you!" Rochelle screamed.
". . .are you not entertained?" said the poorly-washed newcomer, in a voice that sounded like Vanessa's, albeit heavily vocoded.
"Oh, just calm down. Hysterics don't look good on you. And isn't that all you care about?" quipped Penguin.
"Fuck you!" Rochelle replied.
"Unfortunately, you'll have to forget that beautiful one-liner of mine. Can't have you know I'm talking to her." said Opera Penguin, before seemingly throwing glitter in Rochelle's face.
He spun her around, and pushed on her back, causing her to walk off.
"Do you think I should have healed that stab wound?" Opera Penguin asked, as Rochelle left a sparse trail of blood droplets.
The other one was silent.
"I think I'm going to call you Annie." said Opera Penguin.
"Why?" she asked.
"The 'anny' is the part of your name that gives you distinction from your. . . sister." said Opera Penguin.
"I have a different purpose from her. That is my distinction. I enjoy what I was born for." Vanny said.
"It's funny. You're more like a robot than the former machines." said Opera Penguin.
"Not at all. My enjoyment of what I'm meant for is very. . . organic." said Vanny.
"Okay, so you're a deviant. Want some help with that?" asked Opera Penguin.
"What do you mean?" asked Vanny.
"A deviant is like-" Penguin began, but Vanny cut in.
"No, you idiot, I mean how exactly do you propose to help me?" Vanny asked, impatiently.
"I mean I am here to offer you power. You will be unbelievably terrifying, and you will be able to drink more deeply of their fear than ever." said Opera Penguin.
"I don't need more power. The fear, though. . ." Vanny said, seeming to be thinking.
"Oh no. You do. The new forms I've given them aren't exactly superheroes, but you're not exactly a prizefighter either, and they are strong. Unless you want to watch and wait for them to mentally, emotionally and physically degrade like I plan to make them." said Opera Penguin.
"I want to make them degrade." said Vanny.
"Then I will offer you this: You will be able to live on their fear, as you live on food, water, oxygen and sleep. But like those things, you will die without it. However, while those things will be needed to keep you alive, they will also grant you a steadily-increasing power and opportunity to know fear more deeply. Do you accept this?" asked Opera Penguin.
"Well, of course!" said Vanny, now in a more pleased tone.
"Then take my hands. This will only take a moment." said Opera Penguin.
Opera Penguin held out his hands together. Vanny put hers in his. An incandescent eruption of bright white and pastel sparkles flooded forth like confetti caught in a nuke, and then light in cords surged through Vanny's hands, along her arms and into her. She screamed. Opera Penguin had no doubt that her pain was very, very real. Especially since her skin and that suit were becoming one.
After it was all over, Vanny sat on the floor, in a position appropriate for the servant of one who sat in that same position, as he, too was changed.
"Believe it or not, what I just used to change you was also what was used to create you." said Opera Penguin.
"What are you talking about? What did you do to me? I don't. . . understand anything." said Annie.
"You see, you weren't just figuratively born for this. Don't you find it strange that most of your blurry memories from before this place have been oddly relatable to Vanessa's?" asked Opera Penguin.
"Well, it's not exactly like I've had a heart-to-heart with her at any point!" Annie screamed, in a suddenly much more raspy voice.
"Come on, calm down. This is all a necessary part of growing and becoming your own person. You see, you're a clone. Of Vanessa." said Opera Penguin.
"I'm not surprised, to be honest." said Annie.
"Of course not. You're too smart to be." said Opera Penguin.
"But what has that got to do with this?" Annie said, gesturing at her new rabbit body.
"You were raised from the grime of this place, using a bit of Vanessa's blood as a blueprint and the power of remnant to make that base material into you." said Opera Penguin.
"What's remnant?" Annie asked.
"Basically. . . within every person is a spirit. The essence of who and what they are. It is immaterial. The body is the material reflection of the spirit, in ideal circumstances. But oftentimes it is not. And sometimes, the spirit doesn't want to die when the body does, even though it doesn't have the power to go on like it did before the body died. And sometimes, within that circumstance, it succeeds in becoming a ghost. You see, in this world, the cosmos awards this persistence. The spirit that persists, the remnant of the deceased that remains in spite of death, is endowed with the power to produce something like a surrogate for life. And likewise, it is called remnant. It comes in light and dark. The happy delusions, the memories of joys, the will to live, and all the positive force in the spirit is enriched with the light remnant. And the suffering, the resentment, the hatred, the feeling of hurt and the desire to hurt, and all that grief regarding the past and what could've been, that negative emotion within the spirit is blessed with dark power. But the light isn't always good, and the dark isn't always inconvenient. You were made with the light, and look at you! But I changed you with it, too." said Opera Penguin.
"But I still don't get why you did it. Why make me like this?" asked Annie.
"You see, I need someone to keep them from being sedentary. Something for them to deal with. They can't just be lying around here! Everything will stagnate. So I need you to scare them. And I need you to hurt them. Maybe I'll even let you kill them, though I will resurrect them. I'll make them forget their own death in that case, so the fear of death is still in them. How about that?" Opera Penguin asked.
"But why change me like this? I'm a freak now. . ." Annie said.
"You always were, let's be honest!" Opera Penguin said, laughing. Then his face and tone dropped. "It's because I own all of you, and I want you all to know that." Then his face perked up again, and he laughed.
. . .