Hey everyone, quick thing before we start this chapter. I realized the previous chapter's title wasn't working and came out all wonky. It was supposed to be called Chapter 6 - Keys, Mr. Reflection, and Vents. I guess there's a limit to how long titles can be here. My bad.

Also possible trigger warning. Electricuation is mentioned, but brief near the end.

Besides that enoy the chapter!

"Don't worry, Mr. Plotz." A security guard says, opening up a door for the CEO of Warner Brothers. "We've ensured today's visit will go well."

"He's shackled?" Plotz says nervously, wringing a piece of handkerchief in his hands before dabbing himself with it. "Behind the glass wall? It's sealed, correct? He won't-"

"Mr. Plotz." The security guard places a hand on the CEO's shoulder. "It'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous." Plotz apologizes.

The security guard takes his hand away and gestures towards the hall. "This way sir."

Plotz swallows and follows the security guard down the guarded hall. From what he could see, two guards were at either side of the door at the end of the hall. They stood straight and never spoke, carrying taser sticks. The door in question was a heavy metal door with a series of locks on it, including a keypad. It only has one window, even though it was barred. The guard to Plotz's right noticed them and right away took out a key from his pocket. Plotz was familiar with this very specific key. It was the only one needed to open the door.

"Mr. Plotz." The security guard to the left greets, nodding his head.

Plotz nods as well, too focused on the security guard opening up the door to say a real hello. The guard twists the key into the only available keyhole and punches in a code into the keypad. With a beep the door unlocks, every locking mechanism clicking open. The left guard opens the door up.

Enough light floods the room that Plotz can make out the glass wall separating the prisoner inside. The table between the wall was also clear as day. Plotz takes a deep breath and walks inside.

"Thirty minutes." The security guard says.

Plotz nods and enters the room, allowing the guards to close it behind him. Plotz walks over to the table and sets himself down into the chair provided. He clears his throat.

"Good evening, Mr. Warner." Plotz says immediately, pocketing his handkerchief. He folds his hands on the table. "How are we today?"

Click.

A lamp light switches on and light floods the room. Finally, Plotz can see. Staring directly at him was a puppycat child. Plotz flinched when he realized the toon before him was grinning while he stared.

"Plotzy." The toon says, laying back in his chair. "I'm doing quite well. How about you?"

Plotz swallows. He was too eager today. "Just fine."

"That's good, really good." The toon says.

Plotz notices the toon had a paper airplane in his hands, which he was currently fiddling with. Like the others on the toon's side of the desk, it was colored with crayon.

"You um, really enjoy making those-"

"Paper planes?" The toon asks. He holds it up. "Yes, I do."

The toon tosses it to the side and it lands with a soft thud on the desk.

"So," Plotz manages to choke out. "How have things been?"

"Boring." The toon says, bluntly in fact. "But I feel things might go my way for once."

"Oh, that sounds absolutely-" Plotz stops. "Er, what do you mean?"

The toon makes eye contact with Plotz, forcing the CEO into a nervous sweat. The toon's grin only broandens.

"Well, good things happen to those who wait, Plotz." The toon says. "And I've been a very patient boy."

An eerie silence passes between the two. Plotz chuckles nervously.

"H-have you? W-well, that's always a good trait to have, I suppose." Plotz stutters. "For what exactly-"

"Well, I can't say." The toon responds automatically, putting on a simple smile.

"Why not?" Plotz says.

"Because I can't." The toon says back.

"Surely, there's nothing stopping you from doing so-"

"But I can't." The toon interrupts, giggling now.

Plotz growls. "Yes you can, just say it!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Yes!"

"Nopety nope!"

Plotz's face starts turning red. "Mr. Warner-"

The toon starts laughing. Plotz is making unintelligible noises of anger, clearly reaching his limit. The toon slowly stops laughing, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Oh, Plotzy," The toon says with a smile. "I forget how fun you are."

"This is not fun!" Plotz fumes.

"Oh, but it is." The toon says. He crosses his arms over his chest, grinning. "At least I'm entertained."

"Ooh!" Plotz scowls, making fists with his hands.

The toon tsks, clicking his tongue before giggling. "Honestly, Plotzy, I'm glad you're still visiting. I truly treasure these times we have alone."

"I surely do not!" Plotz argues back. He jabs a finger at the toon. "Listen here, these meetings are required and not for your entertainment! I only come to keep you in check!"

Plotz calms down and looks at the toon. "Besides, this time I actually have something to talk about…besides the usual."

The toon smirks. "Then please, indulge me."

Plotz reaches into his coat and pulls out a stack of papers. He puts them on the table, facing the toon. Right on the front of the paper, at the bottom of the sheet, was a single signature in loose cursive.

Zekko D. Warner.

"You signed these when we first put you in here, Mr Warner." Plotz says.

"Yes, I remember." The toon, or rather Zekko Warner says. "Though I don't know why you bring this back up."

"You've scared your last therapist!" Plotz yells, pounding a fist at the table. "You promised you would take the therapy as according to the contract you signed, Zekko Warner-"

"Ooh, full name, nice." Zekko grins.

"-and as per this contract, if you do not continue these sessions, I can not guarantee the studio's protection and will have to go on to your existing guardian!" Plotz finishes.

SLAM!

Zekko's fist hits his desk, creating a noticeable dent in the metal. Plotz had shrunk in his seat the minute the toon did this. He peeks over the desk.

"J-Just reminding!" Plotz adds in.

"And I must remind you that I would have to agree with the therapist assigned to me." Zekko says casually, shaking his hand from hitting the table. "So until then, you'll just have to go about providing me with my care, won't you?"

"That is another thing." Plotz goes on, sitting regularly in his seat to face the toon. "As according to this contract, as long as all members who've signed this contract continue to withhold their ends of the written legend, then I am allowed to provide your care."

"I believe you're confused, Plotz." Zekko chuckles. "As long as I'm behind bars, there's really no way I can blab about the studio, is there?"

"Exactly the problem. It's not you whom I'm concerned about." Plotz admits. He flips open the contract and shows another signature in pretty print.

Melody Cattington.

The smile slips right off the toon's face.

"I believe you're quite familiar with Ms. Cattington." Plotz says. "I just received a call from Weed Memlo…I don't believe she intends to uphold her agreement. And as the contract states, if she does talk, then you would be taken under guardian and state care. There's nothing I can do for you then-"

SLAM!

Zekko was standing right up and had slammed his fists into the metal table. A low growl emitted from him as he bared his teeth at the CEO. The shackles were the only thing holding him back. Plotz, taken back from the sudden motion, raises his hands in a gesture to calm down the toon.

"N-now Z-Zekko, calm down-"

"She won't talk!" Zekko yells. "She won't!"

"M-Mr. Warner-"

"DON'T YOU DOUBT HER!" Zekko screams, lifting a fist.

The door slams open just as Zekko's fist makes contact with the glass, cracking it. The guards rush in with their taser sticks and Plotz is pulled out of the room. From outside, Plotz can hear the toon screaming at him, threatening him, until the sound of electricity fills the air.

"Are you okay sir?" The security guard who had brought him here asks him.

Plotz was doing his best to ignore the screams coming from the prison cell. So much for a good visit.

"Yes, I am…could someone get my papers from inside, please?"