"Okay, I beat up the monster, I've looked at the cameras, I don't think anyone is going to to get in here and not get lost, okay?" said Casey, in Nyx's face.
Nyx was silent.
"So I'm going to go now, and I'm going to relax, because I can't spend time with Rochelle any other time." said Casey.
"So you can suck it!" said Rochelle.
Casey sighed, but then giggled a little.
In Rochelle's room, Casey and Rochelle enjoyed some more time together, Casey almost falling asleep almost on top of Rochelle. But then Rochelle's hand brushed up against something that poked her fingers as they rested on it.
"What is this?" asked Rochelle.
"No, wait, Roxanne—ah shit, I mean Rochelle!" said Casey. "I, I didn't mean for you to find those!"
"I don't understand why you don't want me to see this. Isn't this something you would want to show me?" asked Rochelle, holding up the plastic square.
"I don't know why I got them, I just thought I'd have them so I wouldn't regret not having them if we, well, needed them." said Casey.
"Then what's wrong?" asked Rochelle.
"Because, well, we weren't feeling like it already, and I'm not even ready, and I didn't want you to feel pressured, and" rambled Casey.
"Hey." said Rochelle. "Isn't this what boyfriends and girlfriends are for?"
"Well, not necessarily, it's a matter of loving the other, and the whole-" began Casey.
"Isn't it an inherent part of it? Aren't we together?" asked Rochelle.
"Rochelle, we don't have to fuck in order to be together." said Casey.
"But why not? Am I not good enough? Do you. . .? Do you think I'm unappealing because I'm not human?" asked Rochelle.
"No!" Casey yelled, helplessly.
"Get off of me!" yelled Rochelle back, before getting up and running off.
"Rochelle!" Casey yelled, following her out of her door for a few feet, before sagging.
"Are you ready to start working again?" asked Nyx.
"Yes. . ." said Casey.
. . .
"Casey, why are you crying?" asked Cheyenne.
"I'm not!" moaned Casey.
"Casey, I can see you crying." said Cheyenne.
"Why do you care?" asked Casey.
"Why do you act like people are apathetic by default?" asked Cheyenne.
"Do you really think most people care?" asked Casey.
"I guess I don't know." admitted Cheyenne. "But I know I care. I just do. Now please tell me why you're crying."
"Rochelle ran out on me, and I'm worried she's left me." said Casey.
"Why?" asked Cheyenne.
Casey told her.
"She's so stupid sometimes." said Cheyenne.
"What?" asked Casey. "I thought you were her best friend!"
"Yes, I am!" said Cheyenne, emphatically. "That's how I know! She's stupid because she feels obligated to be whatever she's 'supposed to be!' Didn't you hear her? She felt obligated because that's what significant others are 'supposed to' do! Now she thinks that something must be wrong if you don't want to do what you're both 'supposed to' do!"
"But really, the only thing wrong is what's wrong with me." said Casey.
"No no no! You're buying into her bullshit! You don't have to pursue your relationship in any way! She just thinks you do, and that's why she thinks you don't like her." said Cheyenne.
Casey sighed. "But why did I go and buy those out of the blue?"
"Because you thought that you might naturally find yourself in the position of needing them." said Cheyenne.
"But that ended up making her do that." said Casey.
"But it's Rochelle who reacted to it that way. It's part of how she ticks." said Cheyenne. She hugged him.
"H-hey, what if she came up and saw us? She'd think-" said Casey.
"Casey, just calm down." said Cheyenne.
"Can you please talk to her?" asked Casey.
"Of course, Casey. You two love each other, and I love you for that. Don't let this worry you." said Cheyenne. "But I'm gonna wait until tomorrow. I'd rather let Rochelle calm down."
"Okay. . ." said Casey. "I'm gonna go look at the cameras again."
He walked off.
. . .
"Why are you crying like a little bitch, Casey?" asked Opera Penguin, walking alongside Casey down the hall to the security guard office.
"Look, I know that you listened in on me and Cheyenne, or else why would you repeat her exact statement?" asked Casey.
"Wow, she called you a little bitch, too?" asked Opera Penguin.
"No." said Casey.
"Alright, alright, I heard you talking to her." said Opera Penguin.
"Oh, you're dropping the game already?" asked Casey.
"Yeah, because I'm going to give you some advice. Either stop being a little bitch, and assert that you can say no, and that it doesn't mean that you don't like her, or you can stop being a little bitch, and just fuck her." said Opera Penguin.
"Screw you!" said Casey.
"Aww, is the little queer crying again?" asked Opera Penguin.
"I literally have a girlfriend!" said Casey.
"I don't give a shit! You're a little gay boy if you can't use those damn condoms you went to the trouble of buying or at least tell her you love her when she clearly needs it!" yelled Opera Penguin.
"Why do you care!?" screamed Casey, bawling now.
"I DON'T! I'M JUST BEING CONVENIENTLY INFORMATIVE!" yelled Opera Penguin, even louder. "I LOVE INFORMING PEOPLE OF THEIR INADEQUACY!"
Casey tripped and fell, and curled up, hugging his legs as he cried.
"Crying like a little child?" asked Opera Penguin. "Ah well," he continued, kneeling next to Casey and leaning in to hiss in his ear, "tomorrow is another day."
. . .
Night 19
Vanessa strolled into Rockstar Row, taking a head count, as she figured she'd be more professional tonight than on the nights prior.
"Where's Rochelle?" asked Vanessa, out loud to the room in general. Opera Penguin blinked in and rushed her an explanation.
"Damn it, Casey. . ." said Vanessa, before stomping off to where Opera Penguin told her Rochelle was sobbing.
. . .
Rochelle was sobbing, when the door to the room she was in was kicked down.
Vanessa walked in.
"What do you want?" asked Rochelle.
Vanessa's magical girl outfit seemed to be only partially manifested.
"Look, I'm not in a mood to talk right now, I'm not in here because of you, this isn't any of your busine-" said Rochelle, as Vanessa threw the first punch.
It was followed by much more, as Rochelle was thrown onto her back, and Vanessa pounded down on her face.
"What the hell, Vanessa?" asked Rochelle.
Vanessa was knelt over Rochelle, panting, and then slowly raised a much more gentle hand to Rochelle's face, stroking it.
"Where did you get that idea in your head?" asked Vanessa.
"What idea?" asked Rochelle.
"The idea that the function of—the requisite condition of dating is sex. Who told you that?" asked Vanessa.
"I don't know, I just. . . knew that" said Rochelle. "No, wait, it was Opera Penguin who said he put 'cultural norms' in our heads?"
"And he couldn't put less stupid ones in your head?" asked Vanessa.
"Hey, I just picked the popular ones." said Opera Penguin.
"No, you didn't." said Vanessa, whirling around and pinning Opera Penguin down by his neck. "You picked the 'cultural norms' that preachy, pretentious emos moan about on their blogs. You specifically picked the boogey-man 'peer pressure' that condescending PSAs warn teens about. You picked the most generic strawman of 'society' in general, that oh-so-deep people will constantly declare the cruelty of while doing nothing about it. And you picked it because it's awful, and you want them all to suffer."
"It's funny, you're a bit hypocritical, declaring my cruelty while doing nothing about it." said Opera Penguin.
"Well, what can I do?" asked Rochelle.
"I don't know. Why don't you find out?" asked Opera Penguin. Then he vanished.
Vanessa turned towards Rochelle. "Get up." she said.
Rochelle did, albeit very slowly and agonizingly.
"Why did you do that?" asked Rochelle, crying.
Vanessa sighed. "Because I care about Casey." she said.
"But you said you hate him." said Rochelle.
"Yes, because I let my emotions out and I let them go." said Vanessa. "You could learn from that."
"You still love him?" asked Rochelle.
"Yeah, but not in the same way." said Vanessa. "Whether he really did start thinking of me as just a friend a long time ago, or he decided to drop me for you with a shitty excuse, I don't particularly feel like wanting him like I did when I thought it was mutual. But I care about him. The same way he says he cares about me. The same way I care about you, really. But anyway, you don't have to put up some performance, it's not like there's some audience following you around that you have to deceive. And you don't need to fulfill some fake requirement that some people think is a necessary aspect of love. Especially not in your own time. And especially not when Casey doesn't want to. By letting that idea pressure you, you became the one to pressure him. And now he thinks he's lost you. And look, in all honesty, he probably thinks wolf girls are hot or something. Why else would he gravitate towards you like that?"
"I don't know? Because he felt pity towards me?" asked Rochelle.
"He pitied me." said Vanessa. "And if he was being honest, he left me mainly because he felt like he was just taking care of me rather than loving me. So he probably really likes you. Don't blow it."
"Will Cheyenne be jealous?" asked Rochelle.
"Rochelle!" Cheyenne, who had just walked in, said. "I was just coming in here to tell you you were being stupid and just to let things happen without forcing them. What happened in here?"
"I was just telling her the same thing." said Vanessa. "And, in her pathological need to angst about something else, Rochelle decided to worry that you were going to get jealous of her."
"No!" said Cheyenne. "Sorry, but I would rather stub my toe every time I got out of bed than date him! I'm sorry, Roche, but he's a manchild! I only like him because he's sort of endearing, and mainly because he makes you happy."
"Y'know, if the urban legends are true, your souls are those of kids who died." said Vanessa. "Maybe you're somehow going through some sort of weird puberty now that Opera Penguin brought you back to life?"
"What?" asked Rochelle.
Vanessa told them all about the legends.
"Wait. . . in the halls. . ." said Rochelle. "I saw a man with Opera Penguin. And I felt such absolute terror. . ."
"You think that Opera Penguin is working with the ghost of William Afton?" asked Vanessa.
"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised." said Rochelle. "He's never really told us why he's here, doing this stuff. Goodness knows it's not because he cares about us."
"I'm gonna confront him." said Vanessa.
"Don't get yourself killed." said Cheyenne.
. . .
"Well?" asked Vanessa. "Are you working with William Afton in some way?"
"Come this way." said Opera Penguin.
He walked off to the dimensional door in Rockstar Row, and when Vanessa followed him in, the vestibule expanded into a corridor. The four rooms that the four yiffbabies lived in retained their distance from the front door, while the computer room was at the end of the now-long hallway. Some more doors appeared.
"This isn't part of what I wanted to tell you, it's just renovations." said Opera Penguin.
"Get with it." said Vanessa.
Opera Penguin flicked a finger in the air, and a rectangular chunk of the ceiling came down. He stepped on it.
"Come on." said Opera Penguin.
Vanessa stepped on it too, uncomfortably.
It raised itself back up.
They were now in a room of absolute darkness. The only think visible was a folding chair in a spotlight.
Opera Penguin sat down in it. "I've been screwing with you this whole time." he said.
"What? Is everything fake? Are they really just advanced robots you made? Living automata?" asked Vanessa.
"No, no, no, no. . ." said Opera Penguin. "They are living and breathing and feeling and caring, just as much as you are. But the 'monsters'? I created them using some dead children and a bit of artistry."
Vanessa's face froze. "You've been having me kill dead kids?" she asked, appalled.
"Mmmmwell, yes and no." said Opera Penguin. He explained the concept of the 'shells' to her, and how he was harvesting energy from everything there.
"But why?" asked Vanessa. "What are you using this for? And how does this relate to William Afton?"
"Well, you just halfway answered your own question." said Opera Penguin, as the dream hologram of William Afton stepped out from the darkness. "You see, I have a grudge against someone." Penguin continued. "And I got stranded on this world. I need a way to build up power. But all the ways this world allows power to be built up aren't ways I want to gain power in and of myself." He then re-explained the concept of the cosmos' preference for birth, art and death.
"So babies are magical?" asked Vanessa.
"The power is rarely actually used, and often fades into the background of the universe." said Opera Penguin. "In any case, a baby is only born once, and it is the birth that is magical."
"Anyway, what does any of this have to do with that guy?" asked Vanessa.
"You see, this is my colleague, William Afton." said Opera Penguin.
"More like slave." muttered Afton.
"What?!" Vanessa asked.
"You see, this is why I took you into this room. I didn't want you drawing attention to this. You understand that you can't tell anyone, right? There's nothing you can do about it, and it will only cause unrest." said Opera Penguin. "Anyway, like I said, I have a grudge against someone. Someone I, and my friends, trusted enough to follow the orders of, who knowingly sent us on a suicide mission. So I'm turning William Afton as a god to get me out of this wretched world, and to kill that damn Overseer."
"I can't believe this." said Vanessa.
"Hey, be thankful. Because of that, you have powers of your own, and all these new friends, to boot!" said Opera Penguin.
"This is all just. . . because of your wanting to turn a dirty child murderer into a god?" asked Vanessa.
"I'm not just a child murderer." said William. "I'm also a businessman, an inventor, a family ma-"
"You killed five kids. That's all I care about." said Vanessa.
"My dear, while I was alive alone, I killed at least fifteen." said William Afton.
"Don't call me that." said Vanessa, before starting to kick at the floor.
"You know, if you want to leave, you can just ask me." said Opera Penguin.
"I don't even know if I want to talk to you." said Vanessa.
"Well, you just did, so. . ." said Opera Penguin.
"Fine. I want out of here." said Vanessa.
"Very well." said Opera Penguin.
The floor vanished from under Vanessa, and she fell into the hall. She managed to turn into her magical girl form just in time, and, as such, the about-fifteen-foot fall onto her back merely dazed her.
Even as she fell into the hall, the ceiling had already reappeared over her.
She got up. She felt like she had some things to say.
. . .
"Hey." said Vanessa, to Monsanto.
"Oh, hi." said Monsanto.
"I want to apologize for. . . well, you know." said Vanessa.
"I'm just upset that you had to tease me right before you did it." said Monsanto.
"Really?" asked Vanessa.
"Yeah, because I was kinda excited." said Monsanto.
"It should have been obvious by the fact that nobody legitimately starts a relationship because the other person wants them to, unless they're spineless." said Vanessa.
"I figured if I just kept trying, y'know." said Monsanto.
"That's flattering, but unhelpful." said Vanessa. "Better to look for someone who's just more interested."
"Oh." said Monsanto.
"Maybe you'd like to talk about this in your room?" asked Vanessa.
"I would, but my legs don't seem to work." said Monsanto.
"I did that?" asked Vanessa, horrified.
"Nah." said Monsanto. "I could walk immediately after Sun healed me. But he's been saying I need to 'rest' and now I haven't done anything and I've become basically paraplegic because I've caused no 'awe'."
"I'm sorry." said Vanessa.
"Hey, come on." said Monsanto. "Maybe I can do something from down here."
Vanessa shifted into her magical girl form, and picked him up.
She carried him to his room, and laid him in his bed.
"I don't know what you suddenly see in me, anyway." said Vanessa.
"You're strong." said Monsanto. "I saw it when you killed that weird flying Chica snake thing."
"But you did half the work. . ." said Vanessa.
"No way. I haven't got nearly enough power. I saw you with that kinda strength and I realized it perfectly fit your personality. And it was all just kinda hot." said Monsanto.
"Please don't tell me you got off on me picking you up." said Vanessa.
Monsanto looked away, shiftily.
"Please." said Vanessa.
"Hey, it's just what I like." said Monsanto.
"Well, I'm still recovering from being dropped like plate full of spam." said Vanessa.
"A what?" asked Monsanto.
"Nevermind. That was the dumbest analogy I ever made. Anyway, I'm not in the mood for another relationship right now." said Vanessa.
"Oh." said Monsanto.
"But, I'll be honest," said Vanessa. "apart from having had a boyfriend, the main reason I wasn't into you was, well, the shock of a living alligator man talking to me."
"I get that." said Monsanto. "I guess gators aren't that pretty compared to the others."
"No, actually, I think you're kind of cute." said Vanessa. It wasn't a complete lie.
"It's just the circumstances?" asked Monsanto.
"Yeah." said Vanessa.
"Hey," said Monsanto. "could you find me a bass guitar?"
"Sure." said Vanessa.
. . .
"Ferdinand, I just wanted to apologize to you. Everyone except that little kid's been taking you for granted, when you've been nothing but the most reliable person here." said Vanessa.
"Vanessa, what is the occasion for this statement? You are not leaving, are you?" asked Ferdinand.
"No! I won't ever quit this job." said Vanessa.
"I am touched that you care, but why are you like this all of a sudden?" asked Ferdinand.
"I realized that you all really are kind of unfortunate, and I haven't been thinking about how things are for you, how you all really must feel, living like this." said Vanessa.
"Well, I don't feel dissatisfied with my life, and it's not true that only Gregory appreciates me. Bernard does, also." said Ferdinand. "And Cheyenne, too—although I wish she would speak to me more."
"You know what, I'll just tell her that." said Vanessa.
"There is no need, Vanessa-" said Ferdinand.
"Nah. I've made up my mind." said Vanessa.
. . .
"Yeah, Gregory also said that to me." said Cheyenne. "Although I'm sure the old teddy bear at the very least encouraged him to do so."
Vanessa laughed.
"But why are you apologizing to all of us all of a sudden?" asked Cheyenne.
"I just thought about how your lives were all confined to this one building and what you can do is pretty narrow." lied Vanessa.
"Hey, it's okay. Believe it or not, you make it a little bit better." said Cheyenne.
Her shift was almost over.
. . .
Vanessa sat with Rochelle, an arm around her.
"I'll greet Casey with you." said Vanessa. "We can clear all this up."
When Casey came, he saw the two people he was currently the most afraid to see, and stepped back, before Vanessa said "No, Casey. Come back here."
"What are you going to do? Tear my clothes off?" asked Casey, hesitantly.
"No, Casey, this isn't a scenario of one of your weird fetishes." said Vanessa.
"I don't have any weird fetishes!" yelled Casey.
"Apart from the wolf girl thing." said Vanessa.
"I-is that a fetish? I thought she was just very. . . pretty. In a unique, special way. . . that did kind of involve her dog face." said Casey.
Rochelle frowned slightly at being called a dog.
"Sorry." he said.
"Just get over here, and make up with your girl." said Vanessa.
"I'm sorry that I thought that we had to go at it as a matter of course." said Rochelle. "I just did, though. I thought-"
"I get it, I really do." said Casey. "Cheyenne explained it to me. As long as you're not upset anymore, everything's okay."
"Just one thing." said Rochelle. "Am I really beautiful to you?"
"Of course you are! You're way more beautiful than any human girl I've met!" said Casey.
Vanessa just stared off into the distance, no particular emotion on her face. "Am I finished here?" she asked.
"Yeah." said Rochelle. "Thanks, Vanessa."
. . .
"Okay, quick news flash." said Opera Penguin to Vanessa, as she was leaving.
Vanessa glowered at him.
"There may or may not now be an actual encroaching force that's going to try and invade this building, and it looks like an emo party with a body-modification fixation." said Opera Penguin.
"Penguin, I'm not in the mood right now." said Vanessa.
"No, this is an actual thing, if you see any emos, kill them." said Opera Penguin.
"Penguin." said Vanessa.
"Look, my name is Martin." said Opera Penguin. "If you can't be bothered to say two words."
"Martin?" asked Vanessa.
"Martin Cold." said Opera Penguin.
"I guess it's better than Opera Penguin." said Vanessa.
"Hey, that's my alias from the good old days." said Opera Penguin. "In any case, don't let the others hear my real name."
"Why?" asked Vanessa.
"I don't know, it removes a certain level of mystery from me if the 'mask' slips. Either literally, or physically." said Opera Penguin.
"Oh. And that would just be tragic. Yeah, it would just be tragic if you lost a layer of that obscurity that makes you feel so superior." said Vanessa.
"You keep denigrating me like it's going to get to me. You think I'm not self aware? I revel in my arrogance, and there's no way you're going to make me see that as a bad thing. Kauthann knows I need it right now." said Opera Penguin.
"Because of the. . . emos?" asked Vanessa.
"Well, I guess maybe not everyone who looks like an emo is one of them. And some of them might look a bit more S&M than emo. A lot, in fact. Most of them, really. On the off chance that we just get an emo burglar, I wouldn't really condone killing them. But I would condone breaking their legs." said Opera Penguin. "Look, there's a primordial evil that's screwing things up, and they claim that they're why Afton could become a ghost with the potential to become a god anyway."
"Oh, great, so now you're not just consorting with a child murderer, you're also in league with the devil. I mean, why should I be surprised?" asked Vanessa.
"No! They're not actively sustaining this. They just claim that they caused it to be. And, in any case, I'm not exactly bedfellows with them." said Opera Penguin.
"Well gee, I should hope not!" said Vanessa. "I mean I thought Casey was into weird shit!"
Penguin sighed. "That's not what that phrase means. Do not worry, I am not performing impse during the day time."
"Impse?" asked Vanessa.
Opera Penguin laughed, darkly.
. . .
"Well anyway, do you want to do it?" asked Rochelle, after Casey and her had wasted no time in rushing off to her room to squander their time.
"Could you talk in, uhh, non, non-sequiturs?" said Casey.
"You know what I mean." said Rochelle.
"Well, I mean I could use a bit more committed of a proposition than that if you really wanna bang." said Casey.
"It sounds like you just kind of don't." said Rochelle. "It's okay, I just genuinely wanted to know this time."
"Well for one, it's a bit soon after the whole. . . misunderstanding, and secondly, I don't know where the rubbers went, and thirdly," said Casey, "that creepy fucker is staring at us through the crack in your door and it's making it really hard to get a boner right now."
"Gregory! I'm not in the mood!" said Rochelle, her vocal chords now acclimated to the sudden spike in volume that almost always came with any statement addressed towards the child.
It wasn't Gregory.
"Please." said Nyx. "Do not make me. . . conspire against you. . . in the name of order."
"What are you talking about?" asked Casey.
"I know the threads of potential. I must deliver judgement through the means available to me. Do not be mistaken. I am not apathetic towards your emotions. But your job is your job. This place is your work. Maybe you should find a way to move in, if you wish to treat this one like your family, like someone you would come home to." said Nyx.
"So what, you want me to steal her off to some suburban household and live out a 90's domestic comedy?" asked Casey.
"I would prefer that to a security guard who blatantly fails to do his job." said Nyx.
"Look, can I at least take reasonable breaks?" asked Casey.
"Whether you can take 'reasonable' breaks is as of yet irrelevant. You haven't worked a moment. There is no reason in what you are doing. You are taking a wage for nothing, and in place of your job are instead wallowing in empty gratification." said Nyx.
"Correction—I would be, but you all keep interrupting us!" snapped Casey.
Suddenly, Nyx convulsed, and a bright light flared, causing Casey to shield his eyes.
"OH, BOO HOO!" Apollo yelled. "I'M SICK OF YOUR SHIT! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH DANGEROUS SHIT WE'VE BEEN DOING IN THE DAYCARE? BUT OH, POOR BABY, YOU GET BY WITH SLACKING BUT JUST NOT ENOUGH TO ALLEVIATE YOUR BLUE BALLS!" and here, Apollo jabbed a forefinger into Casey's crotch. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE STICK-IN-THE MUD AUTHORITY FIGURE THAT GETS UPSET WHEN WE DO THINGS LIKE HAVE A CHILD CLING TO THE PARALYZED LEGS OF AN ALLIGATOR MAN WHILE HE USES HIS FAILING UPPER BODY TO CLIMB THE OUTSIDE OF A PLAY STRUCTURE! BUT NOOOOOOOOOO! HERE YOU ARE, BASKING IN WHAT'S ONLY DEBATABLY A BETTER LOVE STORY THAN TWILIGHT!"
"Wh-what?" asked Casey, stammering.
"HOW AM I GOING TO FEEL FUN AND EXCITING IF I'M NOT DOING THINGS THAT COULD ACTIVELY GET ME REPRIMANDED? AND I'M NOT, BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT AROUND TO REPRIMAND ME! NYX CAN MOAN ALL HE WANTS ABOUT THE 'IMPORTANCE OF DUTY AND ORDER', BUT THIS IS THE REAL CONSEQUENCE!" Apollo continued hollering.
"I mean, yeah, that's, that's very irresponsible," said Casey, cartoonishly holding up a wavering finger, and motioning as if to chastise Apollo.
"THAT DOESN'T CUT IT, YOU IMBECILE! AND ANOTHER THING! ANOTHER THING! YOU BETTER CLEAN YOURSELF UP IF YOU DO GET TO THE ONE-LEGGED TANGO, BECAUSE IF I'M CONFRONTED WITH HAVING TO LIVE WITH A SECURITY GUARD WHO GOES AROUND SMELLING OF HIS OWN CUM, I'M GOING TO SET THIS PLACE ON FIRE, COCKSUCKER!" said Apollo, his yells ascending to tearing screams.
"You know, maybe the reason I don't feel motivated to do my job is that no one respects me." said Casey.
"Then maybe stop being a cute little pussy boy for Rochelle. Yeah, you're exactly the ego trip she was starving for. But she's the only one whose needs you've met." said Apollo.
"Why does everyone here sound like a 4channer when they get angry?" asked Casey.
"That's what happens when you don't get any sunlight! And you have to live in this mass tombstone of a building!" said Apollo, sounding somewhat calmer now, but still flaring with burning light as he said 'sun'.
"But think of the children—I mean, the child." said Casey.
"The child was a filthy rat since before he came here!" said Apollo.
"Hey, that's not very nice." said Casey.
"Why do you care?" asked Apollo.
"Because I-I'm supposed to care." said Casey.
"Good train of thought. Keep that up." said Apollo, before slipping away.
"Hey." said Rochelle. "Don't listen to them all. This place runs fine on its own, and you don't owe them anything after the way they treated you."
"No. They're right. I'm completely failing to do my job. I've been thinking only about what I want." said Casey.
"And I'm all you want?" said Rochelle, simpering.
"Yes, but. . ." said Casey.
"But what?" asked Rochelle, ears going down.
"I'm not saying I don't love you. I would never say I don't love you." said Casey.
"But?" asked Rochelle.
"I feel like we've been trying too desperately to express what we both know we both feel. That's why I've been neglecting everyone. I think we're going too fast and trying to rush to the musical flairs and the fireworks. I think we're going to burn ourselves out if we don't try and give each other just a little more space, and quit feeling like we have to prove ourselves to each other." said Casey. "You know I love you, and I know you love me, but we keep acting like we have to do this, and it's not really helping anyone, even us. We can't keep doing this."
"You're dumping me." was the conclusion to which Rochelle decided she would prematurely jump.
"No, no no!" said Casey, his voice cracking as he panicked. "Look," he continued, much more calmly, "I'm not removing, nor will I ever remove you from being firmly in the position of the one for me. I couldn't see anyone else there."
"You saw Vanessa." said Rochelle, sulking.
"That was what I thought was love before I saw the real thing." said Casey.
"Well, if you're not leaving me, then what is this you're saying?" asked Rochelle.
"I'm saying we give each other some space, or act—and I mean act, almost in the sense of pretend—like just friends. Not because we are, but because we aren't just friends, but because we've been together for, like, three days? I feel like we should just back off and give our relationship some time to organically grow." said Casey.
Suddenly Opera Penguin blinked in and snapped "Don't split infinitives!", then vanished.
"Anyway. . ." said Casey, after a long silence, "I just think we should pace ourselves. I'm not saying this just because they're pushing me, I'm saying this because if all we do is love on each other all the time, it's going to become shallow and empty, and so will we. That dependence on bliss will hollow us out and we'll mistake the high of being with each other for the person themselves. If we just act like friends, then we'll know the real substance of our love, not just the romantic thrills. Then, once we have that grounding, there'll be a time when we can chase that high, and it won't burn us out because we know who we are and who each other is."
"Casey. . ." said Rochelle, softly. "I know I'm a little much, but I told you I don't like to wait. You can try pushing me away all you want, but don't expect me to leave you alone. You push me away, and I'll jump right back on you."
"Rochelle. . ." said Casey, a bit of whine blending itself into his voice. "That's not what I'm trying to say. I'm just scared of being fake. What we have is too special for that."
"I know what I feel isn't fake, and I know that what you feel isn't fake. You just need to trust me on that." said Rochelle, reaching her arms over Casey's shoulders.
"I do, but I don't think we need to act like high schoolers locking themselves in the closet together, and I don't want our love to rely on that." said Casey.
"She never got to be a high schooler before she died." said Opera Penguin, behind Casey, and vanished before Casey could even whirl around.
"I'm sick of him!" yelled Casey.
"You're only just now getting sick of him?" asked Rochelle. "You mean you weren't before?"
"I thought he was just some weirdo who does weird stuff to hold this weird little world together, but it's obvious he also loves to be a dick for no reason!" yelled Casey.
"And that wasn't obvious from the beginning?" asked Rochelle.
"Fair enough." said Casey.
. . .
Mangle was dangling above Gregory's bed, morosely.
"Hey you." said Opera Penguin, who was suddenly there because he was. "Take this."
He handed over a ragged cloak, and a sort of cane to Mangle.
"What do I do with it?" asked Mangle.
"For now, I'll just-" Opera Penguin said, before stopping, grabbing Mangle's other head, yanking the jaw open and shoving both the robe and the staff in.
"I didn't know that head had that much room." said Mangle, a little shocked.
"It doesn't. I just infused the fabric of a pre-made pocket dimension into it." said Opera Penguin. "You pull these out when you need to protect yourself. Put on the cloak, wield the staff. It should come naturally to you. Especially since you've been leeching off my supply of light remnant."
"What?" asked Mangle.
"Yes, it seems you're quite adept at harnessing existing powers. Invoking them. Channeling them." said Opera Penguin.
"What? The magic? That's from you?" asked Mangle.
"Well, it's not really directly from my own magic. My magic is from me, and is by and large used by me, though I can create stuff with it that exists independently of me and can be used separately of me. The stuff you're siphoning off of is stuff that's from this place, but I'm the one who cultivated it, I set it up to increase. I'm running it as a fine-tuned machine. Your connection to it all is very. . . interesting. If I weren't capable of making so much of this stuff, I'd be a bit less sanguine about your using it as your own resource. But as things are, it's a very fascinating thing." said Opera Penguin.
"And here I was, thinking it was some kind of miraculous phenomenon that chose me. . ." said Mangle.
"Well, it's not bad to think of it that way, even now." said Opera Penguin. "It is miraculous, even if it's not out of human control. And it did sort of 'choose' you, if you don't have some kind of hidden talent for dependent magic."
"Dependent magic?" asked Mangle.
"Calling on forces outside of yourself. Using stuff that's already there around you, rather than energies that come from within yourself." said Opera Penguin.
"Oh, I think I get it." said Mangle.
"But I think this force has a special connection to you because of who you are and how your identity has a special connection to its identity." said Opera Penguin. "It's tied to the joy in this place. The intoxication of its cheer. Where were you before you woke up here?"
"I just remember being here, before being here. But it was a different 'here'. And there were so many others, and I. . ." Mangle trailed off, before giving a similar explanation to Opera Penguin as she had to Gregory.
"I see. So you're sort of tied to love in this place. Shallow, emotional, saccharine love. That means the light remnant finds its identity in that. Bends around it." said Opera Penguin.
"Well, it felt real every time, like it was the true love meant for that life, before the next one came with its own love. . ." said Mangle, a bit hurt at Opera Penguin's description of her love.
"And what if the other died before you. What if the other was dead and gone and there was nothing you could do. What then? What if you would never see them again for the rest of that life? What, then, of the love of that life?" asked Opera Penguin.
"Well, I guess I'd just cry and wait for the next life." asked Mangle, seeing Opera Penguin sneer at her as she said it. "Or—wait—" she said, half just wanting to refute that stare, "sometimes I would try to get revenge on who was responsible, if anyone was. Once or twice I think I might have picked people I didn't like in that life just to blame them and use them as an outlet for my grief."
Suddenly, Opera Penguin's face softened, he put a hand behind one of Mangle's ears, stroking it, and said, "I see we have a similar understanding of how these things work."
"Well, I guess. . . why? Have you ever loved someone at all?" asked Mangle.
"Maybe. Tell me, if the person responsible looked pure to everyone else, like an angel, figuratively or literally?" asked Opera Penguin.
"I don't know. . ." said Mangle.
"Here, have a look at this." said Opera Penguin, waving a hand in front of Mangle's face.
Just as she was about to ask what she was supposed to be looking at, a vision over took her.
She was prostrate on a large plane of marble, that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Desolately mundane blue sky yawned above. The sun seemed to be staring at her as its rays glared down and reflected off of her surface.
She felt horrifically self-conscious of her unclean, undead being, before looking up, whereupon the feeling increased tenfold, as she realized what she was seeing was not the sun, but a glorious being, seemingly composed of light. It was almost humanoid, except that instead of legs, the bottom of its torso sprouted the lowest of its three pairs of wings, the higher two of which were broad enough and large enough that the whole of the figure seemed to have a generally circular outline. The creature was really just a while silhouette, but it seemed to be bald and male. It had no facial features, as everything in it was completely white light.
"I am the one who watches. I am the one above all who dwell in your world, and in many others, for I am the regent of peace and the enforcer of justice. I command all heroes in their quests. I orchestrate every journey of conquest against evil. My name is not to be known to you. But I may be known by the name of my role. I am. . . The Overseer. And you are unclean."
The creature stretched out its hand, and the white of its hand was surrounded with red light, at first in the form of crackling lightning, but then intensifying and morphing into a smooth, red bloom, which then surged from the stretched-out hand and engulfed the Mangle. Just before she was consumed and destroyed, it seemed as if the sky had turned red, as it engulfed her.
Mangle snapped out of the vision.
"What was that?" asked Mangle.
"That's the fucker I'm getting revenge on." said Opera Penguin.
"I'm not sure if I'd go so far as to fight that thing for the sake of revenge. . ." said Mangle.
"Oh yes, we are." said Opera Penguin.
"'we'?" asked Mangle.
"Everything here is heading towards that goal. Don't worry, I won't take away your happiness." said Opera Penguin.
"I'm not feeling a lot of that right now, anyway." said Mangle.
"Don't worry. I'll let you have Gregory." said Opera Penguin.
"You talk like you have him to trade with." said Mangle.
"Look. People make these dumb animatronics, for their appearance, for their performance. And so they own them for the purpose of their performance. Afton kills all these kids, and so they haunt the animatronics. So Afton owns them, for the purpose of their killing him for being a child-murdering scumbag. Now I come in here, and I bring life, and strength, and hope, and so now I own you for the purpose of being my living subjects whom I make with power and joy. So I own all of you. That part of you that others lay claim to is so small in comparison, that I think I can safely say that you're all mine." said Opera Penguin.
"So I'm a dead kid." said Mangle.
"Does that upset you?" asked Opera Penguin.
"A bit, but not just because I'm a dead kid." said Mangle.
"Why does it really upset you?" asked Opera Penguin.
"Well, if I was someone before I was the Mangle, does that mean I might stop being the Mangle someday?" asked the Mangle.
"Are you scared of that?" asked Opera Penguin.
"There's nothing I'd hate more." said Mangle.
"I'll remake you, then. Someday. But in its due time." said Opera Penguin.
"Why not today?" asked Mangle.
"Some things are better if you wait for them. I think you need to struggle to stay 'yourself' for a while before you achieve security in being yourself." said Opera Penguin.
"But what if I lose myself?" asked Mangle.
"Then we can negotiate. Suffice it to say, few things are lost forever." said Opera Penguin. "But you will have to work hard to get back what you will have lost."
. . .
"Why do you keep me around just so I can hear you talk negatively about me behind my back?" asked Afton.
"I haven't gotten to getting you the ability to sleep, and in general I haven't gotten around to working on you directly. I was busy securing our resources." said Opera Penguin.
"Having this, this extended tea party with all of them is 'securing our resources'?" asked Afton.
"I feel like that should be obvious by now." said Opera Penguin.
"You haven't been pulling in a lot of dark remnant. That Gregory kid isn't pulling his weight, and you've let Roxanne get too happy." said Afton.
"Rochelle." corrected Opera Penguin.
"I'll call her what I want. Anyway, what are we doing back down here?" Afton asked.
"Remember, you've been down here physically all along." said Opera Penguin, gesturing towards the abominable body.
"So that's the face of the god I'm going to be?" asked Afton.
"Actually, I have good news regarding that." said Opera Penguin.
"You're going to restore my original appearance? The appearance you've given my dream body?" asked Afton.
"Not yet." said Opera Penguin.
Opera Penguin raised a hand, and the blob was pulled into the room from above. Suddenly, parts of it were shredded off, and seemed to melt in midair, impurities spraying out as cloud of filthy dust, until the metal was a pure, silvery fluid flowing through the air. The metal wrapped around the head of the sleeping body that was Afton's 'true' form, and became a warbling chrome sphere surrounding the face. The body crumbled to dust as a strange yellow-green light rose off of it, and a pinkish light also shone from the hole in the sphere where the neck was, after the body had completely crumbled and the head's dusty remains poured out of the sphere.
"What is all that light?" asked Afton.
"The green stuff is the life force being taken out of your body." said Opera Penguin.
"I thought that life was a paler green." said Afton.
"You know how chemicals you find in nature generally aren't in a pure form?" asked Opera Penguin.
"I guess." said Afton. "I was never much into chemistry."
"Well, life in the body is generally 'impure' in the way you find things to be in nature. It's comingled with the unique nature of the body and the matter of which it's composed, so it usually gets a yellower or orange—er coloration. Purer life force, so as that which I created artificially out of my mana, is generally a purer green. Weirder, less natural forms of life force can be all sorts of colors, but are usually a minty green. My own magic was a bit on the minty-green side of things because nothing I've been doing here is any less artificial than the food they serve here." said Opera Penguin.
"And the pinkish light?" asked Afton.
"That's the essence of your spirit." said Opera Penguin. "Remember, you're looking on yourself from outside yourself."
"Spirits are pink?" asked Afton.
"Yours is." said Opera Penguin.
"Oh, so mine in particular is pink." said Afton.
"Yes, that is what I said." said Opera Penguin.
"But I'm guessing yours isn't." said Afton.
"Mine's close." said Opera Penguin. "You see, the natural color of spirits is very loosely tied towards what direction their personality might be inclined towards from birth, but it's very inconsistent. Technically, your spirit is magenta, associated with someone who has rare or unique skills. You know, like hiding small bodies in big, ugly animatronics."
"Would you just shut up about that?" asked Afton.
"Nahh, it's too fun to give you grief about it. Just like you gave their parents grief. Haha!" said Opera Penguin.
The liquid metal changed shape into a skeleton, and then, from the dust that had fallen to the floor, two little piles of dust levitated into the air. They compressed themselves into two spheres, and Opera Penguin called light remnant into the, turning them into eyeballs with grey irises. Then Opera Penguin filled in the eyesockets of the skull with flesh by levitating more dust into the eyesockets and imbuing it with more light remnant.
"I thought my strength came from the dark remnant?" asked William.
"Well, your spirit's power is increased using that. But your body isn't your spirit. Light remnant is responsible for healing and enlivening. That's what I'm doing here. I'm giving life to the dust, and making a living body out of the remains of the old." said Opera Penguin.
"It's so strange, like you're the god here, and I'm not." said Afton.
"A god wouldn't have to put so much effort into this. I had to perfect the craft of using this stuff. A god wouldn't even have to use outside forces. Back when I gave life to the four animatronics, I'd had to spend weeks building up the energy and giving it shape. Using this stuff takes way less time than doing this on my own power, but I have to learn how to tame it. Anyway, you're not a god yet. We're working on that. I'm making this a body fit for a god." said Opera Penguin, as he formed a basic muscle structure around the bones, which, along with the flesh in the eyesockets, was a light silver.
"This is what I'm going to inhabit?" asked Afton.
"Well, you already are inhabiting it, you're just having your consciousness projected onto a form outside of it, but your mind is in there, even as you're using that mind to think." said Opera Penguin.
"Isn't it a bit. . . minimalistic?" asked Afton.
Opera Penguin laughed. "That is one way of putting it. But this isn't the finished product. You can still move and walk around with it, but I'm making it bit by bit, so that each part is perfectly imbued with power. Living things can't just be enchanted, not as permanently as objects, or at least not by the methods I know. So I'll have to add in the magic as I form the body, so I can make it magical permanently."
"I thought power was in the spirit." said Afton. "You're not being consistent, here."
"You're talking like I'm making this up." said Opera Penguin. "I never said power was only in the spirit, as far as I recall. It's true that all power that is truly yours exists within the spirit, but you can certainly use power that's imbued into your body, or even in things like enchanted items or being whose power you invoke. I've never been too fond of invoking other beings, although in a sense all this 'remnant' stuff really is me using energies derived from you and all these other ghosts, so I guess I can't really say I'm clean of it. But I certainly have never bent the knee to any higher power, good or evil, in order to call upon them."
"I should just learn to leave well enough alone when it comes to this stuff. I can never say a single damn thing without you giving me a college-level lecture about your mad Thelemite nonsense." said William Afton.
"I'm straight, I have never incorporated sex in any of my magic—until those two start screwing in which case I guess sex will have become involved without my initiative—and I have certainly never fucked a goat." said Opera Penguin.
"But you don't mind the prospect of Casey having intercourse with a wolf." said Afton.
"That's different. She's a person, as much as I hate to admit it." said Opera Penguin.
"I suppose the sanctity of the human kind does break down when there are other races besides us." said Afton.
"I wouldn't say that. We won't ever be animals, even if we do have equals that look like animals. The fact that they're our equals makes them separate from animals, not us lowered to animals. Although, humans are still superior to other races, even to former humans. We have a spark in us that is too hard to define to put into words, but it has to do with a conjoining of opposites. Willful and servile. Mundane and profound. Humble and grandiose. We have a greater capacity for self-contradictions and an untold talent for finding power in them." said Opera Penguin.
"Whatever." said William Afton. "Are you going to have me try it out?"
"Of course." said Opera Penguin.
The form of William Afton's projection vanished. Suddenly, the skeleton got up.
"Strange. The exposed muscle only hurts a little." he said.
"Later, I'll give you control over your ability to feel pain. But for now I'll keep it low." said Opera Penguin. "The muscles are much stronger than human muscles anyway. Trying punching a wall."
"But won't that hurt?" asked Afton.
"Just try it." said Opera Penguin.
Afton punched the wall. A chunk of it flew off, and Afton cried out. "Damn it!"
"Hurt as much as you were expecting it to?" asked Opera Penguin.
"Well, no." admitted Afton. "Anyway, when do I get to walk it out of here?"
"Not for a while. It's in gestation, as I said you were. Being built from the formative period to the divine glory it will eventually attain. A long wait is the price of being a god." said Opera Penguin.
"And what if I don't want to be a god?" asked Afton.
"In this case, it's not a matter of choice. Circumstances have chosen you. Think of it like the Hero's Journey. You are as of yet the unwilling chosen one." said Opera Penguin.
"Ah, and I'm supposed to slay some great evil?" asked Afton.
"As a matter of fact, yes." said Opera Penguin.
"What?!" asked Afton.
"Oh, come now." said Opera Penguin. "You didn't really think there was no self-interest in my heart when I came here? Or that I came here to conquer this place, just so I could rule over a den of ghosts? No! I came here to make a god, fully under my control, so I could use him to get revenge. Revenge against the Overseer, the one whom I once trusted."
"And he's some kind of terrible devil?" asked Afton.
"In his heart, yes." said Opera Penguin. "But he masquerades as an angel of light."