NOTES
Alright. This chapter is considerably longer than most regular chapters, but it's for a reason.
Hoped to wrap up ALL the mess from last chapter in this one, so I could get right back into making normal content. I have succeeded, at the slight cost of making this chapter 6,500 words.
The first half of this chapter honestly serves no real purpose other than wrapping things up, so it may not be the most overwhelmingly entertaining thing in the world, but the good news is that it's all out of the way.
Have a couple busy days coming up, but I hope to get the next chapter out incredibly soon, so I can get back into the full swing of things.
There's a lot I wanted to say, actually, but I'd rather not type another 1000 words of notes that 4 total people will end up reading. I'll save it for later.
Thanks for reading!
Enjoy.
Wrapping and Weaving.
Alright, despite how little it aligns with how I tend to prefer doing things, I took a day off.
I'm not entirely sure why, but I did feel just a tad woozy and weak upon truly having a moment to sit and relax at home. I assume it's from the blood loss, and the brains coping mechanism for losing an entire limb, but honestly I can't say that for certain.
Last I checked, I'm certainly still a corpse, so you'd think I wouldn't be effected by things as trivial as.. Blood.. And 'having an arm'.
Maybe I've recovering more than I thought.
Or maybe I'm just placebo-ing myself.
Probably the latter.
What I'm most certainly doing, however, is stalling from opening the cellar door in front of me.
...
Come on, Mike. You're gonna like having that arm more than you're gonna dislike being in a basement for twelve seconds.
Leaning down and cracking open the cellar door was considerably easier than the last time I was here, thankfully suggesting that Cooper really was the only person to find it between when my pizzeria burnt down and when I arrived a few weeks ago.
I pull on the door until it stays put, granting me the wonderful view of my father's secret murder-workshop. Or at least the corridor leading to it.
Welp.
- creak, crick, creak, crick -
This place could use some Christmas lights..
Damn it- I don't understand why I'm such a nervous wreck this time! You've faced horrors beyond comprehension, Michael. A basement that 'might' have remnant somewhere down there should not warrant such a pathetic reaction from you.
...
Sigh. I 'have' to get over it at some point. Remnant isn't even inherently evil, it's just made by a man that was.
Reaching the end of the small concrete corridor, I'm once again faced with the mess of my father's basement. The sight of the innumerable trinkets scattered everywhere now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth following the events of a few nights ago.
Even more so when I recognize some of the trinkets being the same as the one I held in my hand back in Freddy's room.
I suppose it makes at least a little sense that William didn't just conjure Remnant from thin-air, he had to fabricate it somehow.
...So he made a machine that conjures Remnant from thin-air.
I don't get it, honestly.. I have zero idea what the stuff is even comprised of, but you'd think it would be pretty specific. The little trinket in my hand back then didn't seem to care, though. We gave it power, it created Remnant.
...
That's not what I'm here for, though. I shouldn't get too caught up on it.
Instead, I tear my gaze away from the sea of machinery, and find the robotic appendage I'm looking for sitting politely on one of the desks.
Motivated by the thought that I don't have to linger down here once the arm is in my possession, I waste no time swiping it up and making a 180.
I give it a good look on my way back to the exit, but a few thoughts and observations stop me from completing the trip.
..It doesn't look like any prosthetic I've seen..
I did a little research at home, looking up what a prosthetic looks like, and more importantly, how they work.
I've got zero desire to get a standard prosthetic, of course, but I thought it would help when I finally got a hold of this thing. With what little knowledge I've obtained, it doesn't seem like a regular prosthetic is very complex. Most of them can just latch or slide on, and the more complicated ones had a bit more of a process to allow the limited mechanical movement that they get.
...
This thing... Might not be a prosthetic arm..
When I came here the first time a few weeks back, I noticed there was a small slot that seemed to suggest you could slide your upper arm into, which was the entire reason that it came off as a prosthetic instead of an robot arm.
Now that I'm looking more carefully, there is a slot that looks like you need to slide something into, but.. There's also a small metal rod sticking out the bottom of it.
That doesn't make a lot of sense for a human's-prosthetic.. But it does make sense for something like an animatronic..
The metal rod would serve as something to latch/anchor too, like sliding legos together. If a person tried to wear this, they'd have to impale themselves pretty deep to even get it to fit.
...
Shit..
It makes way more sense for it to be an animatronic arm, the more I think about it.. My father had zero reason to make something like a prosthetic. He wouldn't even have been able to test it on account of having a friggen arm.
I stare at the mechanical contraption in my hand for a few more second, vainly hoping I'd see something I didn't before. Of course, I don't.
With a sigh, I take a few steps backward and place the arm back on the workbench I found it on.
That's really disappointing.. I was kinda banking on this.. Without an alternative, I might have no choice but to settle with a regular prosthetic, or no arm at all.
...
Well.. Maybe I can see if Freddy can whip something out. It'll save me from having to go to the hospital.
Hospital.. That might not be a choice either, actually. If the hospital requires literally any data about me, they'd immediately discover about my 'condition'.
As funny as the thought of watching the doctor's faces as they perform a checkup on me would be, I would get way more attention than I can afford.
...
Feeling a tad bit dejected, I turn around and start to make my way for the stairs.
Who knows, maybe that arm down here was an unfinished project, and I wouldn't have been able to use it anyway.
Sure would've been nice to try, at least.. Without any intended way to attach the thing to me, I doubt I'm ever gonna get that chance.
...
...Hey, actually...
My feet lock in place, and I look over my shoulder to get another look at the arm.
...
I just thought of something.
That arm is meant for animatronics, presumably. Which means it isn't really supposed to work for anything except animatronics.
My father knew this.. But he found a way to let a person take control of robotic appendages.
Through Remnant.
Once a soul was tied to an object, they had complete control over it. Even if there was no reason that object could possibly be alive, or even moving at all.
The old soul-bound animatronics could move, despite their programming not telling them too. They didn't need programming in order for them to 'do' things. Especially my father in his Spring-Bonnie suit; he had complete control over his animatronic. I'm fairly certain that by the time he dragged himself into my pizzeria, zero percent of his programming was intact whatsoever.
...So the souls had control over robotic appendages simply because their souls were connected to them.
My body might be confused, but I know I'm not alive. I'm nothing more than a soul that's possessed his own corpse. Just like the animatronics, I'm technically an 'inanimate' object.
...Soooo, if I connect that robotic arm to what remains of my human arm, would I have control over it?
Would the remnant tying my soul down also consider this arm to be part of my body if I got it thoroughly attached? Would it care?
...
Couldn't hurt to try, right?
I pick up the robotic arm and stare at the metal prong sticking out of where I'm supposed to slide my arm into.
...It's gonna hurt quite a bit to try...
Placing the arm down for a moment, I roll up my right-arm sleeve, and start unwrapping my wound.
Alright.. Good news is, it didn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would.
It wasn't a pretty sight, or sound.. Nothing short of simply penetrating the wound on my arm with a sharpened metal prong until I felt it was on comfortably enough.
Bad news.. Nothing yet..
I've made a small mess, but I'm not to worried about how 'clean' it is down here. A little bit of blood here and there wouldn't make much of a difference.
I'm not terribly surprised that nothing's happened. It's a good weight, and fits just about perfectly. It's nothing short of a miracle that this arm seems to attach perfectly to the point where I lost my arm. My arm was severed ABOVE the elbow, so it even has an artificial joint. It moves awfully smoothly when I push it around with my good hand but.. Still no reaction..
I have one more idea though, before I give up for good.
The whole reason I have control over my body as I do now is because I was basically slathered with Remnant from the inside when Ennard.. Let himself in..
As far as I know, the arm itself doesn't have anything to do with Remnant at the moment. So begrudgingly, I took the last 20 minutes to replicate what Freddy did in his room to try and power the small trinket.
It took Freddy a lot less than 20 minutes to set this up when he did it, by the way.. I want to blame it on only having one arm, but the truth is I'm just nowhere near as experienced with stuff like this.
Picking up the closest resembling trinket, I take another couple minutes to figure out how to expose the wires, and kinda.. Just kinda nudge the wire on the trinket towards the wire with the current running through it.. This time I am gonna blame how long this process is taking on only having one arm.
...
There.
A light turns on somewhere in the trinket, and I take a step back. I'm sure it's already starting to work, but I wanna give it a little time to 'charge', I guess.
...
Also trying to make sure I don't lose my figurative mind the moment I see Remnant start to secrete..
...
Deciding that the trinket has 'charged' enough, I pick it back up wearily.
And sure enough, shortly after, a translucent and whimsical substance starts to secrete from a thin line going down the middle of the machine.
As it does, I feel a heavy pang in my heart. But as quickly as it arrives, it fades away into nothing.
I think that means I was able to control myself that time.. Didn't feel good, though.. All it took to sustain control was extensive psyching up and coming to terms with the fact that I'd be coming into contact with the substance again.
The idea that all of the horror and suffering that occurred couldn't have happened without the substance currently in my hand is something I become acutely aware of every time I come into contact with it. I guess it starts a chain reaction somewhere in my brain that I just can't handle.
...
Y'know, I should really be doing something with this stuff instead of just letting it drip onto the floor.
Instinctively, I hold the device over the robotic arm, and let all the Remnant I've let accumulate in my hand drop in globs onto the new appendage.
...
Well, if the results are supposed to be immediate, I probably would have been able to tell by now- FUCK!
A roaring pain in my arm interrupts my train of thought, causing me to drop the device in my hands in favor of grasping at the pained area.
It's like my entire forearm burst into flames. I wasn't expecting to feel pain like this at all on account of, y'know, not having felt significant pain since becoming a corpse.
The feeling persists for a few teeth-gritting seconds longer before slowly, slowly dying down. Only after half a minute am I able to think clearly enough to register what just happened.
...
Huh?
Pulling my left hand away from the robotic appendage, I come to several realizations.
All of the pain was originating from my FOREarm. You know, the part of my arm that no longer exists.
Well, I guess it does now..
Stretching the once missing length is now a fluid, softly humming, and most importantly 'responsive' mechanical arm.
...
I 'cannot' believe that worked. I can't believe a lot of things, actually.
'fluid' wasn't an exaggeration. The fingers all tilt, bend, and twist the way my regular fingers once did. There's even a reaction when I 'flex' my arm. Obviously, there isn't any muscle, but the arm seemed to whir a bit louder when I tried putting the extra energy into it.
Also wasn't exaggerating with the 'softly humming' part.. Thankfully it's almost inaudible unless I'm bending my elbow joint, but I can still envision it getting a little annoying.
Beggers can't be choosers, though. It's.. Almost perfect..
Which is odd, because the only other animatronics with 'almost perfect' appendages are the animatronics at the Pizzaplex..
Maybe this arm was an early version or prototype for their arms? Thing is, there aren't any prototypes for any of the other appendages the animatronics have.
Then maybe this design was just.. Scrapped? The animatronics I see every day are nowhere near as 'steampunk' as this thing appears to be.. Maybe William scrapped this thing when he decided he wanted to try a more biological approach.
I suppose that means the gang has cooler arms than I do. Lucky them.
...Wonder if this means I seriously could have just stapled my arm back on and got control back...
I went the remainder of the day adjusting to my new arm, including doing things like buying groceries and regular house chores.
Turns out, people don't often run into purple men with hyper-realistic arms on their trips to the grocery store. Lots of lookers. Especially lookers who pretend that they're not looking when I'm facing their direction, but immediately turn and stare when I have my back turned.
Thankfully being self-conscious of my appearance is a habit I lost when I turned into a corpse. Sometimes I can get a kick out of it when someone reacts especially hard.
Scared a kid today. Deliberately. A barely sentient 2 year old was standing to my side and staring up at me while I decided what pasta sauce I wanted. Got tired of it after a while, so I reached down with my robot hand and said 'boo', then pretended like it never happened.
The kid did NOT like that.
I did.
Anyway, I'm back at the Pizzaplex.
I'm pretty sure we're not open tomorrow either, even though all the events of a couple nights prior have been dealt with. There's a reason, I'm sure, but I can't remember what it is.
As far as I'm aware, all of the gang and staff were informed about what happened with the exception of what I never told Cooper, and what Cooper and I agreed to leave out. I believe we chalked up the actual incident itself as being a 'malfunction'. I'm not sure how many people that's gonna convince, but I never gave Coop any other explanations, so that's what we're rolling with.
How the gang is going to react is a mystery. Ideally, they understand that I'm fine, and life continues as normal. That might work for Freddy, but Chica and Monty can get ahead of themselves.
Side note, no Trudge until the building opens back up. So tomorrow, or something. That's one less psycho to deal with tonight.
I took a less conventional route from the auditorium to the animatronic's corridor, just in case the normal large doors on either end of the corridor were shut. I could open them easily, but there's nothing I could have done to reduce the amount of noise it makes, and I don't want to alert everyone to my presence all at once for tonight in particular.
Part of the reason being that I want to talk to Freddy tonight, preferably without the ruckus of everyone else.
- Shrrk -
"Freddy?"
"Michael!"
Oh big man, it's good to hear your voice.
As the door opens, Freddy swiveled to meet my gaze before I even entered the room.
"Come in! I was worried you'd be out of commission for much longer."
He kicks off from his desk and glides over in his chair to remove whatever clutter was on his couch at the moment. I do as he asks, and stop a couple steps into the room.
"The injury isn't as bad as it seemed, so I decided I'd be better off here than rotting away in my house."
"I see. I'm glad you were able to recover so-" Freddy chokes on his words as he faces me again, and jumps to standing from his chair. "Michael!?"
"Huh?"
"Michael, what on earth-?" He sputters, torn between staring at my arm and wanting to stumble towards me.
"Sorry, does it look weird? I was actually coming here to-"
"Where is your arm!?"
"...Huh?"
"Where is your arm, Michael!"
"Didn't Cooper tell you?"
"Cooper informed me that you had an 'arm injury'! Did they have to amputate your..!?"
Uh oh.
"No, my arm was cut off during the accident-.. Cooper only said I-?"
"What!?" Freddy's jaw gapes. "Mike, you lost your entire arm in the incident?"
"Cooper only told you I had injured my arm?"
"Cooper told us you received an 'arm injury', and nothing more!"
Uh oh.
"Told 'us'? Like, everyone?"
"Yes!"
"So everyone only believes I injured my arm?"
"Yes, Michael!"
Including Monty, and Chica.
Uh. Oh.
"Roxanne didn't tell you what she saw?"
"Roxanne was there with you!?"
Why do I say things?
A few minutes of debriefing pass. I'm doing my best to explain things without causing the bear to explode. Apparently Cooper was even more vague than I thought we agreed on. I don't think he intentionally tried to hide the fact that my arm got fully severed in the incident, but his attempt at making the details as blurry as possible resulted in some misconceptions.
Freddy and I decided it might be a good idea to let Cooper divulge a few more details than he already has. Together we formatted the message that we wanted to send, (Freddy takes messages very seriously, apparently,) and sent it.
At least now I can talk to him about what I came here to ask.
"Freddy?"
"Michael.." He mutters in acknowledgement.
"Can you look at my arm for a second?"
He pokes his head up from his desk.
"Your arm? That one?"
"Yeah, here."
I lift my new arm in his direction. Freddy obviously doesn't know what to do with it, but he takes it in his hands anyway.
"What do you expect me to..?" He half mutters to himself as he looks up and down the mechanical piece.
"It's well made, and functions perfectly, but.."
He seems to catch on.
"You're worried about it's appearance."
"To an extent."
"Are you self conscious?"
"No, but it does attract a lot of attention."
"Ah, I see.."
Freddy continues to inspect the arm.. But it's obvious he's never really sure what he's looking at, or looking for.
"..I'm not sure, Michael.."
"That's alright."
He releases my arm, and I return it to my side.
"There are easy solutions, such as wearing sleeves, or maybe even plating it.. Though I don't believe I'd be able to do any of these things without restricting your movement."
"I see."
That's not too hard to believe. If I wanted to change it's appearance, I'd have to cover just about everything; which would inevitably make the arm harder to maneuver.
Even after I take my arm back and stand up from Freddy's couch, his gaze continues to follow the contraption.
"It's pretty complicated, isn't it?" I try commenting.
"I just can't believe.. An entire arm. I've heard stories of injuries much less severe turning out fatal." He shakes his head gently as if to say he just can't understand it.
"Shock and blood loss were the two things I was most worried about, but I handled both as quick as I could. There's nothing vital in an arm, so those two things were really the only problems."
"I.. Suppose so."
"I'm alright, Freddy."
He lets out a sigh as if he was trying to hold back from asking.
"Are you sure, Michael? The Pizzaplex would be able to manage a day or two without a night-guard."
"I'm sure. I'm not here because I think I have to be."
...
Freddy sighs.
"Be careful with Monty, if you intend to talk with him tonight. He tends to react harshly when someone gets injured."
"I will. He can't possibly injure my arm anymore than it already is."
Not sure if either of us believe that, actually.
"Goodbye, Michael."
"Goodbye."
Freddy reacted a bit more poorly than I expected.. Not knowing the extend of the injury I sustained didn't help, but still.
That doesn't bode well for how the other might react.
...
I'll take it one step at a time. Short but sweet. Speaking of which, let's start with Chica.
Monty might be the difficult one, since he's often the only one that people actively avoid informing of any injury. I've never seen him react to an injure before, so I have absolutely no idea what to expect..
Well, the good news is that Roxy is definitely gonna be the easiest. I might just go to her room last to de-stress.
...
Time's-a-wastin'
The door opens, and I knock on the wall as it does.
"Chica?"
"Oop-!"
Something thuds on the ground to my right, just outside my field of vision.
"Alright if I come in?"
"Of course! Don't mind me!"
Not entirely sure what she meant by that, but I take a couple steps in anyway.
..It's..A mess.
"What's happening in here?"
"Nothin'! Redecoratin'!"
I turn to the source of the voice.
..SHE'S a mess.
I think she's wearing one of Roxy's mechanic outfits. One that doesn't appear to have been cleaned, since there are oil stains just about everywhere on her.
"Redecorating?"
"Mhm!"
Chica hoists a decent sized box onto her desk. I can't get a good look, but the occasional glimpse of green and red suggest the box is filled with Christmas decoration.
"..Is that Roxanne's shirt?"
"Mmmhm!" She spins around to greet me. "I wanna keep my clothes clean for when we open again. Roxy doesn't mind!"
"How dirty does 'redecorating' get you?"
"A lil' bit. Dust 'n stuff."
"Mm."
...
"Hi Mike!" She suddenly greets, opening her arms wide to ask for a hug.
"Hi, Chica."
"...Mmmmm~!" the avian hums loudly, reminding me that she's expecting something.
"I'm not a big hugger."
Especially with those clothes.
"Mmm! small one!"
She takes a step forward, and I raise my hands defensively.
"Mmmm-.. Whussat?"
Detecting the sudden topic change, I look at where she's inevitably pointing.
"That's my arm. Did Cooper tell you about how I hurt my arm?"
Folding her arms behind her, Chica bends to get a closer look.
"Oh yeah!.. Did you get turned 'nto a robot?"
"Nope, just had to get a new arm."
I roll up my sleeve, showing her where my skin and the robotic appendage connect.
" 'Ya had to get a whole new arm?"
"Yeah. It's not as bad as it sounds, though. I got a new one pretty quick."
"Oh.. Are you okay?"
Thankfully, Chica doesn't appear to be reacting so heavily. She's concerned, which I appreciate, but not shocked.
"Completely fine."
"It don't hurt?"
"It don't."
"Wow."
"Pretty weird, right?"
"That's a little weird, yeah.."
Chica continues to inspect it for a few more seconds, intrigued by the intricate design, before standing back upright.
"But not bad!" She finishes her previous thought. " 'Sure you're okay?"
"I'm sure. Here."
I walk over to the box of Christmas supplies and peer inside. Exclusively using my right hand, I take a star from the box, and sit it on top of the small tree Chica somehow managed to smuggle in here.
"See?"
Chica smiles lightly claps. I think she's happy I did that for her, since I'm not entirely sure she'd be able to reach the top of the tree herself.
"Mm!" She suddenly hums, reaching into the box herself. "Can you do this one too?"
"I'm not redecorating your room for you."
"I wasn't gonna make you do that!"
"Mhm."
...
"Wanna help me decorate my room?"
Sigh.
"Sure."
- Shrrk -
"Monty?"
I spot the green gator on the other end of his room. He was turned away and working on something, but he turned his head a bit upon hearing my voice. After processing it a bit longer, he completely looks over his shoulder to face me.
"..Mikalike?"
"Hey."
"Mike!" Monty rises from where he was sitting. "Ha! I heard you were injured!"
"I've recovered. The injury wasn't as bad as people made it out to be."
I somewhat regret saying that.. Forgot for a moment that he doesn't know my arm was severed. I meant 'not bad' relative to losing an arm. He probably thinks 'not bad' relative to whatever Coop informed him of.
"Hiya!" A sing-song voice rings from behind me. Chica came.
I'm not entirely sure why Chica came, but she insisted she wanted to come with me to see Monty as soon as I mentioned it. Maybe she got bored without Trudge around.
"Chica! You're a mess!" Monty proudly exclaims.
"Thanks! I've been movin' stuff around." Chica responds, looking down at her outfit again.
...Did she say 'thanks'?
"We've been setting up Christmas decorations in her room."
"Alright, no more distractions!" Monty ignores my comment and cracks his knuckles.
"Huh?"
"Lets see the damage!"
Oh.. Uh oh.
"You mean my arm?"
Of course he means my arm.
"Of course I mean yer' arm! Lemme looksie!" Monty sits in his rolling chair in the middle of the room and starts scooting toward be, beckoning for my arm. "I gotta see what kinda scar you'll get."
"I'm.. Not-"
"Ooh! Didja see Mike's new arm?" Chica excitedly questions the gator, unaware of the catastrophic bombshell she has just dropped on our heads.
"...New-? Ah! You mean like cast, 'r somethin?"
I've been hiding my arm the best I can using my sleeve, but I'm pretty sure Monty just got a glimpse of my hand.
"I.. Suppose-" I try to warn, but before I can continue trying to prevent Monty from seeing my arm all at once, Chica grabs my arm for what I can only assume to be the intention of rolling my sleeve up. Reflex allows me to grab her hand before she can start tugging, however.
"Chica, wait. I don't know how Monty is going to react my-" I subtly whisper. Upon noticing my resistance, however, Chica blatantly turns to look up and face me before whispering back, incredibly conspicuously.
"It's okay! Monty won't care if it's weird!"
"That's not what I'm-"
She starts tugging on my sleeve through my grip.
"Let go! Monty wants to see!"
"Listen-!"
This time, I'm interrupted by a hand clapping on my shoulder. Instinctively, my attention switches to the hand's owner. Monty, obviously.
He opens his mouth to ask if everything's alright, and I try to gesture that everything's fine. Unfortunately, this is too many tasks for my brain to use 100% of my focus on at once, and my grip on Chica's hand weakens more than enough for her to roll up my sleeve to just below the shoulder.
"I win!"
"C-Chica.."
Part of me wants to scold her, but I can't imagine I have the time to reason out with her why this was a bad idea right this very moment.
"Look!" Chica takes my arm and holds it out to Monty like she expects him to take it. "He can even carry stuff!"
Giving up, I settle for apologetically looking up at the gator.
His usually permanent toothy grin is gone. It's still toothy, but the sides of his mouth once tilted upwards have melted into a neutral position. Even after Chica holds my arm right up to his face, he still has a hard time comprehending what he's looking at.
...
"Look!"
Chica, please shut up.
"I see it.."
"Isn't it-!"
"Chica. I need to talk to Mike."
Chica physically recoils, and my expression grows stoic as we hear Monty portray an emotion I don't think either of us even imagined him capable of.
"..S-Sure! but can I-?"
"Leave, please."
Monty's angry.
Not furious, not enraged, but simply angry. At what or who, I can't tell.
"I'll talk to you in a second, Chica." I reassure her without breaking eye contact with the gator.
"O-Okay! I'll be, um..!"
...
Chica politely but quickly speedwalks out the door.
The two of us remaining continue to stare each other down. There's a painfully obvious confrontation about to occur, the kind where the two of us have already come into agreement what roles we will be filling before we even open our mouths.
Monty has questions, and I'm going to have to weave around with my answers.
Freddy warned me about Monty, but I expected the reason to be that he'd react like an overprotective parent, and I'd just have to calm him down and reassure him that everything's fine. This isn't the interaction I was expecting at all.
But I've spent my entire life being obscure and misleading. I'll be damned if Monty of all people will be the one to finally talk me into a corner and make me spill.
He wants to know what happened, and I can't let him figure it out.
...
So here we go.
"..."
"..."
"What happened to your arm, Mike?"
"There was an accident with the tree chomper, and my arm was severed when I was attempting to clean out the wood."
"Cooper told me that already."
"Because that's what happened."
Monty's brow fidgets.
"Why did the chomper go off?"
"There was a malfunction."
"Bossman told me there couldn't 'be' a malfunction."
"Bossman?"
"Arin."
"Arin didn't buy or set up the machine."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"But 'yer sure it wasn't Arin?"
"I know for a fact Arin didn't buy it. I guess there's a chance he set it up, but I find it extremely unlikely. Arin prefers to 'tell' people to set things up."
"So Arin didn' set the thing up, so he shouldn't know 'nothin about it, right?"
"Sure."
" 'en why'd he tell me it couldn't malfunction if he didn't know?"
"I.. Don't know. What are you getting at?"
"The machine can't turn on without someone on the controls, Mike."
"Do you think someone turned the machine on with my arm inside?"
"..Maybe."
Thankfully, Monty doesn't seem all that confident in his answer. Despite being dead on.
"I purposely waited for everyone in the room to leave before I tried cleaning the chomper. There was no one in the room to turn the machine on when the accident happened."
"How sure are 'ya?"
"Almost positive. Why does this matter to you so much?" I sneak a question of my own in there.
Monty leans in and points at my chest.
" 'Cause if I find out someone 'did' this to you, Mike.." He pauses for a moment before standing upright again. "Then I'll need to talk to them."
It's.. Incredibly unnerving listening to him say things like this. Monty is strong, comically so; but he would never hurt a fly. Right?
"..No, there was no one in the room at the time."
"You were busy cleanin' the chomper. Ya' couldn'tve missed someone?"
"No. After you left, I was alone in the room."
Shit. That didn't come out right, and was absolutely horrible for my argument. I meant to say something along the lines of 'no one entered the room after you left', but I jumbled the sentence a bit.. Now Monty's thinking back to if anyone was in the room after he left. Obviously, there was.
"That's.. Not right, Mike. Roxanne was in that room with ya'."
He's saying the words out loud, but I don't think he's fully put together what he's insinuating yet.
"Sorry, Roxy left a few minutes later."
I can't say she left immediately, like I thought on that day. Monty would've noticed.
"How come?"
"How come she left or how come she waited so long?"
Monty thinks for a second.
"The second one.. Or- both."
"Roxy and I were just chatting for a while, simply because we've started getting along. Eventually, she left for her raceway because I had promised her to help work on one of her go-carts that was having issues."
"..Then 'yer arm got cut?"
"A couple minutes later, yeah."
"A couple 'minutes'?"
"..?"
"I thought Roxy 'ad seen the whole thing, didn' she?"
Fuck. How did he know that?
Failing to keep my poker-face, I grimace ever so slightly. The both of us know that means he was on point.
"She.. Did.. How did you-?"
"Roxy told me."
Roxanne told Monty she saw the whole thing, but not Freddy? What?
"Right, Roxy did see the whole thing.."
"But you said she left."
"I.. Guess I was wrong.. Maybe she was waiting for me to finish cleaning so she could walk with me to her raceway."
"So Roxy 'was' in the room."
"..Yeah.. Hey, why would someone activate the chomper anyway?" I sneak another question in, pretending like I'm not buying myself more time to think.
"..I, ah.. I 'unno. They'd have to be pretty mean to make the thing go off with you inside, huh.."
"Right. I don't think anyone dislikes me here, at least not enough to chop my arm off."
"..What if it wasn' on purpose, then?"
Monty shifts a little in his spot, only now truly comprehending that he may actually be accusing Roxanne of being the culprit. His powerful gaze doesn't waver, however.
"How would it be an accident?"
I know how it would be an accident, we both do. I'm just thinking.
"They can't see 'ya from the controls if 'yer right next to the chomper."
..Oh wait.. And if you can't see me from the controls, then..
"Then Roxy couldn't have been up there if she 'saw the whole thing', right?"
"..."
A few more seconds of staring at each other pass before Monty's gaze begins to soften.
"Roxanne couldn't have been up by the controls, because if she was, she would have had no way of telling what happened to me down there. So she couldn't have 'seen the whole thing'. By the time Roxy would have walked back over to look down at the chomper, I already would have left."
Monty knows that Roxanne saw what happened, and only when I showed him my arm did Monty realize that 'saw what happened' meant Roxy saw my arm get cut off. But if Roxanne was on the control panel, all Roxy would have seen when she looked down is a couple puddles of blood; nothing to suggest she knew what happened other than 'Mike got injured.'
That part is still true, actually. Roxy and I talked, but I never showed her my arm. Roxy slipped in my blood, but she never saw where exactly the blood was coming from. So she shouldn't have known what happened to me.
The part I'm conveniently forgetting to mention is that Cooper tried calling my FazWatch, which lured Roxy to the chomper to find my arm. Of course Roxanne would have known my arm got cut off once she found my arm in the chomper, but as far as anyone is concerned, especially Monty, Roxy would have had no reason to go peering inside the chomper. Anyone else in her position would either run away, or run after me.
...
...
"Shit, uh.."
Monty's gaze continues to recede as he follows my logic. He scratches the back of his head and breaks eye contact.
"Monty."
"Uh.. Yeah?"
"It was just a malfunction. No one injured me." I lie through my teeth.
"..I guess you're right.."
Monty finally takes a couple steps back and plops into his chair.
"Sorry 'bout that, I guess kinda got ahead of myself.." He chuckles, a little embarrassed.
"It's no big deal. I appreciate you being concerned for me."
Subtly taking a deep breath, I walk a few steps to sit on his couch.
" 'Course I'm worried for 'ya!" He emphasizes, though retreats into himself again soon after. "Maybe I shouldn'ta starting callin' Roxy the criminal, though.."
"It's alright, your reasoning made sense." I plop down on the cushion. "I'm perfectly fine, though. Did you get a good look at this thing?" I raise my arm up a bit, offering it over for Monty to look at again. Monty politely declines.
"Nah. Looks cool, but I wouldn't know 'nothin about it."
"I getcha. I barely know anything about it myself."
Think that marks the end of the confrontation. Bullshitter wins again.
...Gonna have to be an angel this next week to make up for all the karma I just lost for lying so much
"Didja say you could lift with that arm?"
"Oh, yeah. I have complete control over it."
Monty raises his eyebrows a bit.
...
"Think you'd be willing to give an old gator a hand with the decorations?"
"You're decorating?"
"With whatever Chica didn' use." He responds with a chuckle.
"..Fine."
Monty fist pumps the air.
"Arright!" He then uses the momentum from the fistpump to lift himself from his chair. "Move that couch 'yer sittin' on, we'll put the tree there."
I am NOT hauling a tree back here for you.
- Shrrk -
I invite myself into Roxanne's room and walk in like I own the place. Hardly paying any mind to Roxy, who was brushing her hair as I walked in.
"Wh- Mike!? Cooper said you'd be out for at least wee-!"
Wordlessly, I walk to one of the ends of her couch and fall face first onto the cushions.
"Mike..?"
"You owe me." I tell her, voiced muffled from the couch.
"What?"
"You owe me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I've decided not to tell her Monty might have just ended her existence if I hadn't figured something out during our talk, but I'll be damned if I have to spend all that effort for Roxy's sake and get nothing in return.
"Mike! What does that mean?"
"Payments due by the end of the month."
"..What!?"