I have heard the phrase 'temporary insanity' bandied about more than a few times in my life, and honestly never gave it much thought. I mean, objectively it always sounded absurd, how can an acute psychological condition be 'temporary'? Mental illness isn't like a light bulb, it doesn't just activate and deactivate, it's an ongoing struggle for anyone unfortunate enough to suffer from it. At least that was what I thought until I found myself sitting on my couch, staring at three gorgeous anthropomorphic chicken women all looking back at me with varying degrees of concern, completely unable to recall the last few hours of my life. I remembered a feeling of giddiness and overwhelming panic, then nothing.
"You uh. . . ok there ner-I mean Lucas?" Asked Chica Classic, her voice hovering around worry without exactly committing to it.
"Ohmygosh-ohmygosh-ohmygosh! I was so worried! Please tell me you're ok!" Toy implored, looking at me with a far-too-familiar expression of doting concern. I also noticed she had, at least for the moment, dropped the fairy princess persona.
"Do you need like. . . a doctor, or whatever?" Asked Funtime, her worry only discernible through her disaffected monotone via considerable effort.
"I. . ." I hesitated, honestly I had no idea how to respond to their concern. I mean, all of this certainly felt enough like a delusion to imply I should have my head examined. However I honestly felt fine, if a little tired. Although that only brought forth the uncomfortable recollection that every madman ever recorded in the annals of psychology had firmly believed themselves sane. A part of me was almost tempted to say 'yes', if only to have another human around to ask if the three beings in front of me were actually real. "I don't think I need a doctor but I have serious doubts about my current level of mental stability. Mind telling me what I've been doing for the last few hours?" The three Chica's glanced nervously at one another, before Classic responded.
"Mostly, you were just laughing and raving like a lunatic." She admitted.
"CLASSIC!" Toy declared, scandalized. "How dare you say such a thing about my beloved! He was not acting like a 'lunatic'!" She shouted, slipping partially back into her preferred character. Classic just gave Toy a deadpan stare as she arched a very noticeable eyebrow. Immediately Toy's outrage turned to sheepishness as she averted her gaze from her sister. "Much. . ." She conceded with a mutter, crossing her arms in clear annoyance. Deciding I didn't have the energy for another cat-fight, I chose to chime in.
"Well, while I can't exactly claim that makes me feel better, at least I snapped out of it. On that note, much as I would love to just head to bed and forget about this till morning, we need to establish some house rules if you're going to be staying here."
"You're actually letting us stay?" Funtime asked, her surprise managing to pierce through, if only just, her usual monotone drawl. I sighed.
"I don't exactly have a choice. You are now made up of an experimental and exceedingly dangerous technology I created. Add to that, that for all your intelligence and relative maturity you have no experience in the real world, and that said world would all too happily destroy you to learn how you work. Letting you out on your own recognizance would be morally and scientifically wrong on more levels than I can count. I might be able to finagle a way to make you into official US citizens, but until then you are considered property under the law. Also, technically you aren't human, so even things like 'inalienable human rights' don't legally apply to you." I explained. Only realizing as I did so, what an allfire mess this situation was likely to become.
"Maldito infierno! So were trapped here?!" Classic demanded, sounding genuinely pissed. Not that I blamed her, I was essentially telling her she had just traded one prison for another. Even if the new one was a billionaire's mansion, a cage with gilded bars was still a cage.
"For now? Yes." I stated matter a factly, deciding to rip the band-aid off before she could dwell on it. "I'll try and make you as comfortable as I can, but the reality is that it's too dangerous for you to leave right now." Here I sighed and massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Even walking down the street would be a risk in a world where cameras and phones are everywhere, not to mention one in the same. A single viral photo could attract all the wrong kinds of attention, and you three are about as subtle as a fourth of July fireworks display." Classic looked like she wanted to refute me, her feathers fluffing up in anger. In the end though, she let out a sigh.
"Multa. I guess putting my name up in lights can wait for now." Here her annoyed expression became an evil smirk. "Besides, I think I already know how to pass the time. . ." She declared, licking her beak as she looked at me with predatory eyes. I tried to ignore the voice in my head telling me to do things I definitely wouldn't want my mother knowing about, in favor of just glaring back at Classic.
"I have a hose." I stated flatly. Classic just grinned.
"Oh, I bet you do bebe." She purred.
"And I'm rich enough not to care about destroying half my home with water damage." I finished, narrowing my gaze. Classic just kept smirking.
"Well if you want it wet and wild. . ." She trailed off. I just held up a hand.
"Stop. I'm already getting a headache, and we still need to discuss living arrangements, and proper names." Here I glanced over Classic's shoulder. "Besides, I don't think Funtime can hold Toy back much longer."
Turning around, Classic was treated to the view of Toy glaring at her with an expression of pure rage, with Funtime holding her sister back by her arms, as Toy literally growled at Classic. That said, it was clear Funtime's grip was loosening.
"I'm only holding her back because I love you marginally more than I want to see you thrashed for trying to steal my kiss sis." Funtime stated, in a tone only slightly less mechanical than the animatronic I honestly barely recalled her being. Classic edged away from her sisters slightly before turning back to me.
"Yeah, anyway, what was that about names? We already have names?" I shrugged.
"I mean, I'll call you whatever you want. I just figured you might want something better than 'Classic, Toy, and Funtime'? That said, I am not calling all of you 'Chica' that's the kind of joke that gets old fast." Classic seemed to consider my words, with even Toy and Funtime forgetting their jealousy for a moment. Finally, Toy spoke up.
"My love would. . . would you mind naming me? I'm not great with names, and I just know you'll pick out one that's perfect." I gave Toy a questioning look.
"Are you sure? I figured this would give you a chance to individualize yourself? Declare yourself your own person, you know?" Toy nodded, seeming to think about it.
"Could. . . could you at least make a suggestion? I do wanna be my own person, but. . . well I trust you, and like I said I'm not great with names." I shrugged, resisting the urge to mention that, all told, she'd barely known me for more than a few hours.
"I guess I could give it a shot. . ." I said speculatively. "How about. . . Tanya?" Instantly Toy's face lit up like a kid on Christmas, as she broke free from Funtime and wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.
"I LOVE IT!" She cried out happily, and damned if I didn't see tears in her eyes. It was oddly sweet, although the pain of my spinal column and ribs being destroyed did slightly put a damper on the experience.
"I'm glad. . . but. . . oxygen!" I gasped out. Instantly Toy, or Tanya now I supposed, dropped me to the floor in a heap.
"OH GOD I'M SO SORRY!" She declared in a panic.
"It's fine. . ." I replied, trying to hide the wince as I gingerly got back to my feet. Tanya just gave an ear to ear smile.
"How about me?" Funtime asked, her curiosity only barely getting past her tone of disaffected apathy. I looked her up and down, wracking my brains for a moment.
"How about 'Lucy'?" I finally suggested. "It's dark enough to be mysterious, but normal enough not to sound tacky or ridiculous." Funtime nodded slowly.
"I guess I could try it." She replied, a tiny spark of something like joy behind her deadpan tone. "For now." Classic let out a laugh.
"Ok, watchya got for me nerd? These two might roll over easy, but I got high standards." Resisting the urge to make a comment to the effect of: she kept making passes at the first guy she met now that she was free, so how high could her standards really be? Mostly because it would mean indirectly insulting myself, but also because I disliked the obviously implied gender double standard. Instead I just gave a shrug.
"Oh you're definitely a 'Clarissa'." I remarked easily. Classic just smirked.
"Because it sounds like 'classic'?" She asked smugly.
"No." I replied, matching her smug expression. "Because it sounds high-maintenance." Classic instantly shot me a glare.
" Vete a la mierda." She replied.
Before I could respond, and having been screamed at in Spanish in Resident Evil 4 enough to guess the newly christened 'Clarissa' wasn't saying 'thank you', I was violently interrupted by a sound that even to this day haunts my nightmares. It was a scream, or at least, that's the best way I'm able to describe it. Sounding like a combination of the sound of metal being torn apart, mixed with a demonic shriek of rage and pain. All four of us instantly covered our ears and winced, as every light bulb in sight flickered. Before exploding in a shower of sparks and jagged glass.
The room was plunged into darkness, as I heard a pounding of heavy footsteps coming from the direction of the door to my lab. It sounded like several extremely large and heavy people were running up the stairs leading from the first floor. Several years ago, I installed a secondary lighting system that went on in the event of a power outage or short circuit, a relatively common occurrence when you test newly designed machines and electronic systems as often as I do. As designed, they activated only a few seconds after the lights died, just in time for the door to my lab to explode into kindling, and for me to scream at the sight of the three monstrosities that came through.
The old bodies of Classic, Toy, and Funtime, or perhaps I should say of Clarissa, Tanya, and Lucy, looked positively demonic. Eyes like black pits holding pinpricks of red light, stared at me from above beaks that seemed to smile in the manner of an unhinged madman. Hunched over slightly, the three animatronics reminded me of a pack of wild animals on the hunt. As one, their heads mechanically turned to fix me with a look of horrifying hunger and rage, just before charging at me.
As I watched my rapidly approaching death, I couldn't help but observe how each animatronic had a slightly different style of movement. Classic charged forward with the lumbering gait of a rampaging elephant, smashing aside furniture and various other obstacles with sheer brute force. Toy moved like a glitched video game avatar, moving in a barely visible blur before halting, adjusting her trajectory with stiff seizure-like twitches, and then blurring into motion again. Funtime moved by using her spring-like limbs to vault over obstructions, bouncing around like a deranged slinky, as the plastic plates on her endoskeleton separated and rejoined in time with her movements.
They were unimaginably quick, covering the distance between us in seconds, all of them converging on me. Throwing up a hand, their grasping limbs only just missed me, as I was yanked back by my collar.
"Manos fuera perra!" Clarissa snarled, her rage almost palpable. As she pushed me behind her while simultaneously kicking her former body square in the center of the chest. With a scream that was half rage half tearing metal, the possessed Classic body flew across the room. Hitting the wall with enough force to smash right through it and into the neighboring room. "The nerd is mine!" Clarissa shouted. Just before the ex-body of Toy slammed into her, sending her flying before she landed heavily on a couch. So heavily in fact, that the couch snapped in two.
I had little time to lament my couch's destruction, as the monstrous Toy loomed over me. Its beak was gone, revealing a rictus grin filled with blunt teeth. But as frightening as that smile was, it was the creature's eyes I found the most horrifying. There was nothing human in that gaze, nothing even remotely resembling sanity or empathy. But there was awareness, a malicious, alien consciousness divorced from anything that most would consider truly 'alive'. This thing. . . it was sentient, but twisted in a way no human could ever be. Whatever lurked behind that unhallowed gaze, I couldn't describe as anything other than pure, absolute, evil. This thing's eyes told me that not only was it going to kill me. . . it was going to enjoy it.
"HAVE AT THEE KNAVE!" Shouted a voice I only barely registered as belonging to Tanya. As a silver blur interposed itself between me and the nightmarishly expressive Toy. I blinked several times as I tried to process the sight in front of me. Tanya was now clad in a suit of feminine knight armor, sans the helmet. In her hands she held a broadsword in a two-handed guard position, as she blocked her former body from approaching me. With a sudden lunge, Tanya stabbed Toy in the collar, before shoulder checking it. The plastic and metal abomination sent spinning through the air before its head became embedded in an antique dresser. Turning, Tanya smiled down at me with a slightly cocky looking smirk. "Art thou alright my beloved prince?" She asked, extending a gauntleted hand to me. However, as I lay there, unable to do much more than gape at her, I heard the sound of wood splintering.
"LOOK OUT!" I shouted. Tanya turned just a hair too late to avoid being bum-rushed by the screeching Toy animatronic. Clinging to Tanya's back, the mechanical monster let out a keening shriek as it clawed at her face. Letting out a shout of surprise, Tanya wildly swung her sword around as she tried to pull her attacker off her back. Mercifully she missed me, only managing to slice a nearby standing lamp in half.
"GET OFF ME YOU JERK!" Tanya shouted as she stumbled around blindly. "WE WERE HAVING A MOMENT!" Frankly, it was less a 'moment' and more an 'instant of profound confusion mixed with abject terror'. Still it was nice to know my new. . . friends? Associates? Wards? Beings whom I can't really put a name to our relationship because we've literally just met? For the sake of simplicity, I decided to just go with: friends. So yes, it was nice to know my new friends valued my well being enough to save me from imminent death. Speaking of, I had just about decided to run into the kitchen and try to use the door there to get out of the house, when a spring-like limb attached to a plastic hand, smashed through the floor inches from my head.
"FUCK ME!" I shouted, as the limb snapped back to its owner, the malevolently grinning figure of Funtime Chica. No sooner had its limb returned, than it shot out again like a spear from a speargun. Fingers whose broken plastic casings revealed claw-like metal points, shot toward my chest with the speed of a crossbow bolt.
I was sure I was going to die, as the world slowed down around me. With crystal clarity, I took in the details of the warzone my living room had become. In one corner, amid the wreckage that was once my couch and end tables, Clarissa struck her former body with a brutal haymaker that sent its head flying. In another, Tanya threw aside her sword in order to use both hands to grab at her former body. Latching onto the possessed Toy's wrists, she hurled her through a wall with a roar of indignant rage. And there, streaking toward me like a hellish missile, was my imminent death. Which would, I'm sure, sound very dramatic if my narrating this story didn't give away my obvious survival.
For a split second, I wasn't quite sure what I was looking at. As a set of five blade-like claws gripped Funtime's spring-powered limb, stopping it dead, inches from my heart, with the ease of someone plucking a grape from a vine. Briefly, I recalled the game Prototype, as my eyes trailed up the ferocious looking appendage responsible for my salvation. Till I found myself staring into the -literally and figuratively- sanguine gaze of Lucy.
"Eventually." She stated, her deadpan monotone barely wavering. I stared at her in bewilderment.
"HUH?!" I asked, wondering what kind of statement that was to make to a person you just saved from impalement.
"You asked me to fuck you." She clarified, with the kind of calm usually only attainable via the severe abuse of opiates. "And I will. Once I've gotten my kiss." I'm not sure there's a word for the expression I wore in response to that. And believe me, I looked. So for simplicity's sake -and to save myself another fruitless night with a Thesaurus- let's call it: divided by zero incredulity. Primarily because I imagine it is the same expression you'd wear in response to seeing someone managing to successfully divide by zero.
There was little time for Lucy to say more however. As a second spring-loaded attack struck the side of her head. A spray of something that looked somewhere between mercury and blood, flew through the air as Lucy's head jerked to the side. Yet as the limb attempted to snap back, it was snared out of the air by another bladed hand that unsettlingly blended aspects of the organic and inorganic. Slowly, Lucy turned back to look at her former prison/body. A nasty gash on the side of her face swiftly knitted together and vanished, as she addressed Funtime.
"Fuck off." She hissed, as she emphatically closed her knife-like digits on the captured limbs, neatly slicing them apart. For as quiet and understated as they sounded, Lucy could put an astonishing amount of hate into two words. It was honestly even more chilling than the now partially dismembered animatronic she had saved me from. As Lucy positioned herself between me and the now slowly retreating remains of her former self, I felt my shock wear off in an instant.
"You uh. . . you ok?" I asked. Sounding not nearly as awkward as I would have expected.
"I will be. Once its dead." Lucy replied. And for all that her monotone voice tried to suppress it, I could tell she was severely pissed off. Funtime seemed to know it too, as it took several steps back. It was hard to tell, given how little of an expression it had, but for a moment, as it glanced at it's destroyed limbs, Funtime looked almost. . calculating? With a start, I realized what it was about to do a fraction of a second before it acted.
"THE WINDOW!" I shouted. A split second before the mangled abomination that Lucy once resided in, crouched down and shot with inhuman speed toward the aperture of glass.
"NO!" Lucy shouted -an action I up to now wasn't entirely certain she could perform- in a mix of rage and horror. As she dashed toward the window, only to be sent flying into an armchair by a charge from the last of the possessed animatronic shells.
Toy turned toward me with jerky, twitching movements. Like a severely spread out shot time-lapse movie, or a severely sped-up slide show. I let out a strangled cry of pain, as the monstrous creature slammed into me with the force of a speeding car. Hitting a wall, I felt the wooden supports snap, as the air was blasted from my lungs. Falling to the ground, my vision swam as I struggled to get my breath back. I had just about managed it, when a cold metal hand grabbed me by the throat. As I was hoisted effortlessly into the air, a thousand thoughts flashed through my head. As a pair of glowing red eyes in an ebon void stared into mine, I tried to think of some poignant last words.
"This sucks!"
In my defense, you try being profound when you can barely breathe, just got hit by a freight train, and are about one good jostle away from a concussion.
"GET AWAY FROM MY PRINCE YOU TIN-PLATED SKANK!" As heroic battle cries go, I'll be the first to admit that one wasn't exactly top shelf. Personally I've always been partial to: 'Blood for the Blood God!' but dammit if there weren't of joy tears in my eyes as I heard that it. Which rapidly turned to tears of terror as a sword with what I now know to be a monomolecular edge, sheared through the possessed Toy Chica, along with my shirt, belt, and pants. Meaning that as the bisected cybernetic contribution to my reoccurring nightmares fell away, so did my clothes. My last conscious memory of that night, before all-consuming terror and exhaustion persuaded my brain that being awake was for sissies, were of a very clear wolf whistle, followed by Clarissa's voice.
"Santa mierda! Guess you really do have a hose."