Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Like the heat that unfurls from the collision of stars, tears stream down his face, leaving a burning in their wake. His hands shake as all Ranboo can do is stare at the shrivelled photo in them, having crumpled from the unrelenting pressure in which he clutches it. Through his blurry vision and the feeling of his burning cheeks, he can hardly focus on anything except for the boy in the image. Michael, he’s got Michael, his mind screams repeatedly like a broken record. The thought is akin to the screech of a worn out disc, because Ranboo knows he can’t do anything.

His body tenses, every muscle and ligament poised to act, but he is restrained. There is nothing he can do to save his own son. Frustration coils in his gut like a serpent, ready and waiting for the chance to reach the surface, but it never will. Ranboo is too levelheaded, too kind to ever act on such urges, even if the fate of his son lies in the balance. 

Hence why he has no hesitation of stripping himself bare of everything but his clothes if it means if acting in accordance with Sam will do anything to help make Michael survive. The weight of the armour disappears, but in its place is guilt. 

Ranboo hasn’t been seeing his son as much as he should’ve, he knows. If he knew then what would happen to Michael, he would’ve done anything to just crawl into that attic and hug him one final time. Maybe hear a cute oink that makes his heart melt, or just sit there, revelling in the warmth of a house in a place otherwise so cold. 

As he reminisces upon the memory, his gaze hardens. Everyone around him is almost motionless, none of them willing to intervene, but he’s almost glad. 

Yet, his anger at both himself and others permanently bubbles under his skin, maybe like a saucepan boiling but never to pop its lid, and it’s not just frustration that wracks his whole frame now. All of his emotions coalesce into this singular mass, two frontlines between anger and sadness, frustration and guilt, but he knows neither will win. In fact, Ranboo can feel the sword pricking into his back, staining his orange overalls with purplish blood. 

He can also feel Sam’s eyes boring into him, even through his gas mask, and he grits his teeth. As much as he wants to do something, he can’t. If he does, he risks hurting Michael, and that means hurting Tubbo, and most of all, that risks his family. He can’t lose his family, because that means losing everything. 

Even if he already knows that his fate has already been decided. 

“Dream, if you don’t come back, Ranboo will die!” Sam hisses, and that’s when he starts to squirm. He struggles, kicking, clawing, but it’s all for naught. Ranboo doesn’t want to meet Death. He imagines it to be cold, cruel, unforgiving, like an endless winter that sucks the Earth dry of any vitality. 

With the pressure of the sword at his back and everyone looking directly at him, into his soul almost, he stops struggling. He lets out an airy exhale through his nose as his eyes land upon Techno, Phil, Niki: the Syndicate, the group that took him in when he had nothing else, and their stares make his heart hammer. For once, Techno’s gaze isn’t steely, nor hard; instead, it’s almost watery. 

A sob bubbles out of his dry throat, the names of his loved ones cycling through his mind like a mantra. It will do nothing, he knows. Dream will not come back for him. Dream hates him. Dream has resigned him to his death. 

The tangy smell of iron fills the air, and Ranboo crumples to the floor. The sword impales him and his hand clutches at where it pokes through his stomach. He shakily brings the hand up to his face, the purple tainting his skin. The pain is but a mere afterthought as all he can focus on is the purple, filling his vision like a breach in nature. 

His ears prick as his breaths become all the more laboured. A cry from Techno vaguely registers and the hand clutching at the image of Michael drifts aimlessly to the sodden ground. He barely clings onto his sole semblance of life, but Ranboo knows his grip is slipping. 

“He’s got Michael,” he whispers, and those are his final words before he loses all feeling in his body. He knew that in going along with Sam that day, promising in blood that if he ever escaped, he’d die, that things would always end up like this. Ranboo, barely even an adult, dead, forgotten, only to be remembered by Death itself, or maybe even that would be too much to ask. 

And everything remains of him in that world, even as everything goes black for the owner of that body.

When he wakes up, though, Ranboo is surprisingly warm. It feels almost like his home back in Snowchester in how comfortable it is, and he smiles a little. The faces of Tubbo and Michael, albeit blurry, flicker to the front of his mind for a moment.

It just reminds him of how—or why—he died, and that’s when his eyes snap open. Surrounding him is not his house in Snowchester, oh no. This is Death itself, in its most pure form. A void of inky blackness stares back at him. He knows he’s not where he’s supposed to be, but judging from the lack of weight in his chest, he knows one thing and that this is most certainly the Abyss. 

From what he remembers from someone (he can’t quite remember who, but when is that any different from how he usually is?), it’s where souls are condemned and hailed. It’s where he will be judged. It’s where he will discover his fate for the rest of eternity. 

Only is he pulled from his reverie when a feminine voice cuts through the haze, sharp and soft in a way he can’t quite describe. “You’re finally awake!”

Somehow, it feels like a hug, words wrapping around his very cortex and breathing life into something that was meant to be lifeless. His tense muscles relax and his shoulders fall to their usual position, instead of being raised. He can’t exactly see her, but from her voice alone, he feels comforted, maybe like a mother would do so to a child.

Yet, Ranboo can’t help but feel slightly nervous as the aftershocks of his death still run through his veins, and the fact this woman’s presence seems so very otherworldly is enough for the adrenaline to resume pumping in his veins. 

“I—It seems I am,” he mumbles, looking down. When he does, though, his stomach only turns. He’s surprised he can even feel that as purplish blood continues to drip from the wound that killed him. There’s no pain, but he only grimaces at how grotesque it looks. He almost wants to stick a finger in, see how far the breach in his skin extends but he stops himself, shaking his head.

Somehow, even the very ‘ground’ he stands on is black, null of life. Everything is drained of anything that may make it hospitable, so he wonders how it can be so warm when everything seems to so utterly dead and Ranboo wonders if it’s the woman’s doing. 

“You’d be right, dear,” the woman says and if Ranboo could see her, he imagines a kind face, smiling at him in a way that Philza might. The heat surrounding him flares for a moment, perhaps in tune with her emotions. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, but this is my domain you’re in. That isn’t to say everyone gets such… luxury, however.”

That makes him frown slightly, but if this lady is meant to be some sort of Deathly higher power than himself, he can only imagine how many awful people she must have encountered. Something about her strikes an oddly familiar chord within his brain, but he can’t quite place a finger on it. He ruminates on the thought whilst she continues. 

“Ranboo, dear one, I can’t say you were meant to pass on this early,” she says softly. “But I will give you a choice. Either you try your chance in a limbo that will guarantee your revival so long as you survive, or you move on elsewhere.”

Questions flourish in his mind at her words. The fact she knows his name is worrying enough, but he reasons that since she’s most likely omnipotent as Death, so she must know everything there is to know too. That would include more than his name though; it would include his thoughts, his relationships, his acts in life that will condemn him to his fate.

But, if this second chance she offers really is sincere, Ranboo will grasp it with everything he has. It will be with the tightest grip he can possibly manage, and he will never let go until all his effort is sapped from tired muscles. 

Sure, something about the circumstances surrounding the revival scenario sound odd, what with the vagueness, as well as the fact he has to survive is concerning. Though, if it means he can return home to his family, to his friends, Ranboo will do anything. 

“I—I want to try limbo, please?” He says, phrasing it almost as if it were a question in that it’s with such little conviction. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see everyone again, he’s just scared of the unknown. His words jumble together, much like his fragmented memories and thoughts, and he wonders how she can understand at all. 

“It will be hard, dear, but I know it’ll be worth it. In fact, you remind me of a lovely man I know,” she soothes, and Ranboo feels lightheaded all over a sudden. It’s not like his death, where the pain was a constant throb until he eventually ceased to exist. This is swift, and he only barely manages to put together the pieces as to who exactly he had been talking to this whole time. 

“Trixtin, is— is that who you are? Or, are you just Death?” Ranboo whispers shakily. His consciousness flitters and his eyes barely remain open, but he remains steadfast if he can at least know what he’s getting into. No longer will he be grasping for this second chance in the dark if he can manage to divulge even a little information from her.

Almost ironically, a bright light blinds him for a moment and he lets out an instinctive cry. Endermen, although usually fine in light, hate it in sudden bursts and his retinas burn from the sudden intrusion. His jaw goes slack when he realises there’s a woman, clad in funeral wear, in front of him. In his offputtedness from the light, he realises he must’ve fallen as she offers him a hand.

Awkwardly, he clutches onto her hand with as little force as he can muster. Some part of him fears that if he grips too hard, he will anger her, risking his second chance. In the process, his body protests at the movement and it takes all of his effort not to cry out. Knowing that he’s dealt with far worse before steels his nerve though. He must persevere. 

“I’m surprised you realised who I am, especially when your mind was half here and half in limbo,” the woman nods at him, leaving her hand on his shoulder. Despite being very tall himself, this woman still towers over him and something within him knows that this is probably not even her true height.

The thought really hammers in how this is Death he’s talking to, but she seems genuine enough that any discomfort he has dissipates as soon as it comes to fruition. Some part of him still fears what will happen to him, but he trusts that he will be able to persist. He’s a man who’s been through conflict and conflict and survived, so what’s one more? 

“Ranboo, I’m afraid this won’t be as easy as you think. It will push you to your very limits, and that is the only information I can give you,” Trixtin averts her gaze from him and his stomach twists and turns on itself. It’s an anxiety that he’s never quite felt before in that he feels as if he’s about to jump off a cliff without knowing if anyone’s going to catch him. 

As much as he is an introvert, Ranboo feels as though that if Trixtin is being so vague, this limbo must be dangerous and maybe, she does it to preserve what’s left of him before he plunges right in the deep end. A yearning still coils in his gut though— a fickle thing that wants, but will never get. He doesn’t want to do this alone. If it was his choice, it would be the Syndicate, Tommy and Tubbo by his side, but he knows that is impossible. 

It doesn’t stop his heart from wanting someone to experience the unknown with him.

Though, that only causes Ranboo to grimace. As much as his loved ones being there would help, he doesn’t know anything about limbo. He would rather he died than them, and as much as he may yearn for them now, he knows that if he survives, everything will be fine. His mouth sets into a firm line with that.

I need to do this, he repeats in his mind and it’s enough for it to go silent besides the repetition of those determination laced words.

”Are you ready, dear?” Trixtin asks. After a few seconds, Ranboo nods and with a final squeeze of his shoulder, he feels his consciousness slipping. The last thing he sees is the void swallowing him whole, and his mouth contorts into a silent scream when the void begins to twist, turn and pull at his very being, molecules rearranging at its command. 

The pain blooms across his body for a moment that is much too long for something that should only last a second, but he can’t feel nor see anything anymore by the time it goes away. 

Instead, Ranboo peels his eyes open. Something feels so incredibly off with how darkness clings to him, obscuring his very vision but he doesn’t have time to ponder it when he hears footsteps that strike fear within his heart.

Instinctively, he breaks into a sprint. He knows not why he’s running with such effort on legs that feel so short, or why he’s so scared in the first place, but even as his breaths leave him in ragged bursts, he continues onwards. In the darkness, he can’t quite discern where exactly he’s going, but he keeps moving. He feels like prey almost, and whatever is causing him to feel so utterly threatened is most definitely dangerous. 

So, even as his body begins to protest, his mind screams at him to never cease in his relentless movements. In fact, he only goes faster as the footsteps shuffling behind him seem to keep up pace so well. They sound heavy, and whoever they belong to chortles under their breath. If Ranboo slows, he could probably feel the hotness from their breath on his neck, and the thought makes his hands curl into fists. 

From the pressure he applies onto his knuckles, he can only grit his teeth when more heat spills out from what was probably an open wound. It’s pushed to the back of his mind, though, as his attention moving from keeping his feet moving to the pain of his hand for that brief second is enough for him to fall to the floor. 

Ranboo’s jaw collides with the ground, going slack, and more pain blooms across his body. A pained whimper escapes the confines of his throat, and his eyes widen from how childish it sounds. It’s too high-pitched, too shaky to be his, yet it sounds normal. What the fuck is happening, Ranboo screams to himself and he scrambles to get up again when he feels the footfalls behind him stop. 

“Ranboo,” the voice draws out the ‘o’, mocking him almost and some part of him wonders how on Ender they know his name. “You know you can’t escape! Nobody else has, so why should you?”

A foot slams down on his back, ceasing all his efforts to escape in one swift motion. He bites his lip to prevent the sob leaving his mouth, fearing that if he were to show anymore weakness, he would most certainly be condemning himself to Death further. The thought makes him pause briefly (wasn’t he just with Trixtin?) but he doesn’t have time to question it if he wants to survive, he knows. 

With that, he starts to squirm, even as the person continues to place more and more weight on his back. For some reason, it feels more pained than it usually would and coupled with how small he feels, he knows something is definitely wrong. Ender, the whole thing is! 

Here he is, running for some nondescript reason besides instinct urging him to from some just as strange person who wants him dead in a body that feels so little. It makes his stomach drop a little, his hands a little clammier, and he finally manages to escape the clutches of the person. They let out a growl, cursing at him before following. 

Ranboo briefly wonders how, by Ender, he’s managed to run so far. Usually, in another world, he would’ve been breathless, chest heaving within a few minutes no less, yet something here keeps him moving. Maybe it’s survival instinct, maybe it’s not, but whatever it is, he’s grateful for it. 

The darkness of wherever he was finally becomes light and he almost lets out a little laugh. Never before has he been so excited to see the shitty hum of some old ceiling light. What intensifies his awe is the fact that the light is definitely beyond that of a lantern or torch and that thought causes him to push the fact that there was someone after him to the back of his mind for a moment. 

That’s his downfall. 

Ranboo’s scream gets caught in his throat as cold hands wrap around his neck. They constrict like some sort of snake and the owner of the hands force him to look up at them. The movement strains his neck and even as tears threaten to spill from his eyes, those that do don’t burn. He looks around in confusion, clawing at the hands around wrapped every so tightly around him.

Either this person—if he can even call them that—is very tall, or his suspicions upon him getting smaller are true. His legs kick against them profusely, eventually causing them to release their grip after one particularly hard kick. He scrambles to his feet immediately and despite being forced to the floor, the person clad in the bunny suit tries to reach out for his ankles in one last attempt to take him down with them.

Fortunately, he moves out of the way in time and as childish as it is, he sticks his tongue out at the person. He doesn’t know why he’s pushed to do it, but it makes him smile. It’s a nice respite from the adrenaline trip he’s been on ever since he ended up…here, wherever this is. To a kid from this world, it would probably be some sort of paradise of food and leisure activities, but to Ranboo, he’s utterly confused on how big and futuristic it looks. 

The fact the place is so vast both concerns and excites him, striking some long forgotten chord of playfulness within him. He wants to explore, fanning the ember of childish curiosity in him in the process, but the thought of another person jumping out at him like that bunny creature did makes his gut churn.

Scanning the area, he puts his hand on his chin for a moment. For a place so large, it’s sure quiet— perhaps even too silent. For some reason, his mind thinks up images of sharp toothed monsters, towering over him but he just shakes his head. He used to be one such monster in another world, so why on Ender should he be so scared? One rabbit can’t be that terrifying. 

In fact, when his head whips around to meet the mess of limbs he left, he only pales upon realising they had somehow disappeared. Not a single trace of them remained, even as Ranboo ran to where they once were, eyes blown wide in some futile search for answers. In fact, nothing was out of place— not even the most infinitesimal speck of dust on the floor was disturbed.

He frowns, the oddness of the situation digging a cavity into his brain and nestling there, a constant reminder that if he were to meet them again, he needed to hide for they were dangerous.

Danger, danger, danger, he repeats to himself mentally as the familiar thrum of adrenaline fills his senses, making him more aware, more prepared. His heart threatens to escape the confines of his ribs as he looks over the area meticulously. It’s unlike anything he’s seen before, but the infatuation is soon replaced with anticipative fear as if that person was any indication, he can only imagine what the rest of the place will be.

In fact, although Ranboo tries his best not to let him linger on his curiosity too much, he can’t help it with how everything is so unfamiliar. The neon scrawl on the walls looks far from Enderian—closer to Common if anything—but somehow, he can understand it clearly.

Written on the walls are the words Glamrock Freddy, and it sounds ever so odd. Rolling it around in his mind leaves behind a feeling he can’t quite place— anticipation, maybe. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him is excited to find out what lies behind the door he’s deemed the most safe.

Even if he hesitates to push the thing open at first, he does so anyway, his jaw throbbing a little when it falls open. In front of a mirror lies what looks to be something he can only compare to one of Techno’s polar bears with their similar bulk and ears. Instead of the usual white colouring, though, this thing is yellow and blue, covered in odd patterns and items he can’t quite figure out the purpose of. On its wrists are bands with sharp points, but they don’t seem to be built for harming anyone, or anything for that matter.

In fact, this thing seems too friendly to hurt even a fly, even in its…sleep state? With how unmoving it is, Ranboo can only imagine it’s sleeping. To study it further, he creeps up to it, shakily reaching out to touch its body. The material of the body alludes him, but the glossiness mystifies him. 

The technology here is nothing like he’s ever seen before. He’s so utterly entranced that the fact he can see his reflection in both the mirror and the animal is only an afterthought. When he does realise, though, he lets out a scream so loud that he fears that the rabbit will come after him again. 

Instead of his usually two-toned colour scheme, Ranboo is pale, but not actually white. He’s the shade that Tommy is, a shade that’s akin to a Builder. As he picks at every differing intricacy from his usual appearance, he realises he mostly looks the same, excluding his skin, tail and ears. 

What he does lack, though, are his abilities. He can’t teleport. He can’t speak to his particles. He can’t even make those odd guttural noises to communicate. Upon further examination of himself, face pressed almost directly up to the mirror, Ranboo stares. There’s a chubbiness to his cheeks he never quite saw before and that’s when realises he’s not an adult anymore. 

He is but a meagre child against this strange facility that he still has no clue what will do to him. He’s without his abilities, anything that will grant him an upper hand. 

(“To make things fair,” Trixtin might say.

But he won’t accept that. To him, it’s unjust. If she was meant to help, why would she make him a Builder and strip him of all his abilities?)

Ranboo staggers backwards, the person staring back at him scaring him even more so than that rabbit. Unexpectedly, he ends up falling into the lap of the bear and its chest cavity opens. The thing envelopes him and for a moment, he thinks he’s about to die. That is until he realises that even though it’s a bit tight, it feels more secure than the outside. It’s warmer too, more comfortable and his tired body somehow falls into a restful sleep. 

“…It seems I’ve not completed my recharge cycle,” a voice cuts through his exhaustion and Ranboo yawns a little. He immediately becomes aware upon his head hitting against the metal, making a loud clang. In the process, the bear—or whatever it is, since from what he remembers, animals are made of flesh, not metal—stands up, and it causes its unhinged chest cavity to fly open. 

He falls out, landing on the floor in a mess of limbs. Groaning, he blinks for a few moments to regain any semblance of his grip on reality, only for his breath to get caught in his throat when the thing is right in front of his face. 

A blue light extends from its eyes in what must be a scanning motion for some reason, and Ranboo yelps, scrambling away. “What on Ender are you doing? Leave me alone!”

The thing ignores him, and any childish curiosity is pushed from his mind as he glares at it. Instead, it continues to speak. ”It appears I can’t recognise you from the guest list in my system. Would you mind telling me your name, so when I can connect to the main database either, we can find your parents?”

Parents. 

Ranboo can’t remember his parents. Here, he will most certainly have none for he’s not meant to be here, but at home, it’s the same. Briefly, he remembers hushed voices, soft and kind, but obviously not kind enough to look after their son. At least he thinks they’re his parents, since they’re the only adults he remembers from his childhood. It’s not like his memory is reliable either, so he just rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t need my parents!” Ranboo snaps at the thing, glowering up at it. It doesn’t share his contempt as only concern lies within the surprisingly expressive eyes. What doesn’t help too is that he’s still completely confused as words like system and database, in all their unfamiliarity, frazzle his brain. He slams a hand down on the floor in some childish display of anger which only causes the frustration in his gut to flare. 

A hand comes down on his head, and he instinctively closes his eyes. Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel quite as threatened anymore as the thing stops being so close, but still applies that…comforting pressure. Ranboo sighs and decides to give his name. He learns that it’s called Freddy and it matches the name he remembers from outside. What still confuses him is what exactly it is.

”What even are you?” Ranboo squints up at it, and his shortness becomes all the more apparent. Even if he were his usual self, this thing would probably still tower over him and would definitely be stronger. That makes his throat burn with nausea, and he thinks briefly back to that  rabbit.

”I mean, I’m an animatronic, if that’s what you’re after,” it says thoughtfully, though with it sounding masculine, Ranboo’s not sure what to refer to it as. With its warm voice, it seems almost sentient, but the thought makes him frown a little. 

“Animatronic?” He questions aloud, and more questions form to create a turbulent sea in his mind. The waves crash against the sides of his skull, and it’s probably why it begin to throb. He massages his temples, a motion probably odd for a child to do. The bear—or, Freddy, he should say—looks at him with unmoving eyes, and it’s almost disconcerting how real they look. 

For someone who doesn’t really know how these machines work, he feels like it’s some sort of experiment gone wrong. He simply cannot calm down—even after the bear giving him some form of comfort help before—as everything remains so unfamiliar, so confusing, and Ranboo doesn’t know what to do. 

Maybe it’s him being a child that plays with his emotions, maybe it’s not, but he buries his head in his hands regardless. Tears stream down his face and he hiccups a little. Freddy crouches to meet his eyes, but Ranboo just draws his knees up to his chin to make himself smaller. Before, that was practically an impossible feat, but now, it feels like the only thing that can make him feel secure when everything else is so wrong. 

“Are you okay, superstar?” Freddy asks, apprehensively, cautiously. It’s with a care he’s only had directed at him by someone like Tubbo or Philza, and he starts to cry more. He wants home, not this. The cheesiness of the nickname doesn’t even register in his head, even if some part of him not completely terrified scoffs at it. Instead, he questions himself.

How long will he have to be here? 

What happens if he dies?

His family, his friends— will they even be okay?

”I—I don’t know,” Ranboo murmurs, shaking. Freddy doesn’t draw any closer, and he’s almost glad for it. He doesn’t think that the claws that thing has would be any good in a hug with this frail body. 

“Can I do anything to make it better?” It—or, he, since this bear is most certainly more than an object—asks, and Ranboo nods. 

“How—how do I leave?” He says simply, hopefully. 

“I’ll need to direct you, but first, you’ll need to help me leave this room. This might help.” Freddy says, and his chest cavity opens. Ranboo’s brows furrow a little because how on Ender is this gift box going to help him?

His question gets answered for him as the bear motions for him to open it. In a flurry of party poppers, a watch lies inside. He looks over it for a moment, snapping it on his wrist and smiling a little. Freddy explains how they can communicate through it—and Ranboo is glad it’s a quieter option, because he doesn’t really want to think of what might happen if anything else discovers him making too much noise.

With that, Ranboo moves to leave the room to help Freddy leave until he hears footsteps. 

Not heavy, unlike the rabbit’s. These are light, calculated, but the voice— that is the same. Ranboo’s hand on the door handle gets all sweaty and he rushes back up to Freddy, scrambling into his chest. 

“You’ve gotta hide me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes blown wide from fear. “That—that thing, it tried to kill me!”

”What? But that’s only Vanessa. She’s a security guard, she can help—”

”Shut up!” Ranboo snaps, wincing a few moments later at how harsh it sounds, only to be glad they were quiet.

“Come out, kid. I only want to help you!” Vanessa says, shining a bright light through the curtains that separate them from her. He still wonders how on Ender she knows his name, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

In that moment, everything feels too loud, and by Ender, even his own breathing is! Somehow, he’s able to move Freddy into a corner where Vanessa’s light can’t penetrate. In, out, in, out, he thinks as Freddy eyes him with concern. Ranboo ignores the silent pressing for an explanation, and just nods when he leaves. 

When he does, he enters a vent. Some childish part of him almost wants Freddy to guide him through the vent as the darkness clings to him, but he bites his lip before he can act on impulse. As he moves, the vent rumbles with each motion, but the animatronics he observes from above seem much too engrossed in themselves to care about him. 

Some part of him knows that things will change soon if he isn’t careful. 

On the other side of the vent is the room he was in before when being chased by…whoever it was. When he’s barely thirty minutes into this place—and has already nearly been killed—Ranboo ignores it to preserve his own sanity. Regardless, a shiver runs up his spine and he swears he’s being watched, even if every animatronic he walks by is either too busy playing an instrument, gussying themselves up, or simply in a place he can’t see them.

Specifically, it’s the one that makes a lot of noise that makes his gut churn—clawing, grunting, groaning, every sort of violent sound, it made it. Ranboo hopes he won’t have to come across it any time soon. 

Scurrying past them, he ends up at a desk with another gift box. This time, opening it up reveals the photo pass and he’s never felt so happy to see such a thing before. Even if the animatronics seem less focused on themselves now, he pays little heed to it if it means he can stop scaring himself. 

“Freddy, I’ve got the photo pass!” Ranboo announces as he runs up to the bear. Somehow, the animatronic’s friendliness must’ve rubbed off on him because usually, it takes quite a lot for Ranboo to trust someone after everything that’s happened to him in that other world. Maybe it’s his child brain playing a part too, but the achievement earns him a pat on the head and it makes him smile goofily.

Staring up at the bear, he thinks the two of them could make a pretty great team as he scrambles inside Freddy’s chest cavity, feeling a bit bare when he’s not in the machine. The safe feeling it provides is definitely born from instinct in that it provides a space with four walls— or at least, two sides, a back and a chest that opens up. To Ranboo, it’s enough. 

Maybe being revived and going home won’t be as bad as he thinks, even if he’s now a Builder.

After going down a flight of stairs that sticks out like a sore thumb in a building otherwise technologically advanced, Freddy suddenly stops. Or, maybe it’s Ranboo’s ears pricking at the sound of Vanessa calling out his name that makes him too stop instinctively. 

“Ranboo, I’m sorry, but you need to go to first aid,” the bear cuts through the tense atmosphere Vanessa induces, confusing him even more, “I feel as if you’re broken.”

”What? No, I’m fine!” Ranboo snaps, flailing inside the chest cavity in another childish display of frustration. His finger pricks against the some wires, and he bites his lip to prevent the barrage of curses from leaving his mouth. As much as it bleeds, Ranboo suffers in silence for the most part as his protests go mostly unheard. He’s but a back seat driver as Freddy moves through the utility tunnels. 

For a moment, he ceases in his thrashing to instead stare outside through Freddy’s eyes. He doesn’t quite know how he does it, but he chalks it up to the advanced technology. His eyes widen upon light blinding him for a moment, and that’s when he knows Vanessa has found him—or, them, should he say, as Freddy isn’t meant to be out of his room either. 

“Ranboo, get behind that curtain!” Freddy directs quickly and he follows the bear’s command without question. The thought of the rabbit lady or security guard—whatever she is—spurs his heart into hammering against his chest, threatening to escape in a flurry of red. He grimaces as Vanessa shuffles into the room, light scanning, searching for him. 

He retreats further behind the curtain, only allowing a pinprick of her light to filter through. Intently, he listens to the conversation between her and Freddy. Apparently, the reason the bear wasn’t meant to leave was because of a ‘malfunction’—whatever that meant—but something about the way she phrases it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

Then, she starts talking about him and that’s when his stomach drops. 

”That kid, he has no documentation, y’know? He doesn’t even exist!” Vanessa says with exasperation and for a moment, Ranboo swears Freddy’s eyes flicker to him, or at least his general vicinity. He fears that doing so will reveal his location to the woman and he will die.

“Well, that’s certainly…odd, but if I see him, I’ll let you know,” Freddy replies after a beat, and Ranboo’s heart rate slows. The adrenaline in his blood eases as Vanessa turns away, taking that awful light with her. When she does, he tears the curtain back and rushes into Freddy’s arms. It’s not even a hug (and he doesn’t even know why he does it), but it fills Ranboo with something, something warm that makes him a little calmer. So, he revels in it whilst it lasts, knowing it will be limited in a place that’s already tried to kill him once.

Even if Ranboo’s chest feels a little empty after, the bear places him back down on the ground after a few moments, instead turning to comb through the many drawers. His brows furrow in confusion, wondering what on Ender the bear was doing. 

“Aha!” Freddy exclaims, turning back towards him. In his paws are two plasters, but he just tilts his head. 

“What are you doing?” 

”Ranboo, when I said you were broken, I just meant you looked injured. You’re covered in bruises and cuts!” The bear says with concern, bending down to his height. He places a plaster on his finger and chin and even though his neck still throbs, Ranboo is appreciative of the help nevertheless.  

Ranboo just wishes that every other animatronic in this place was the same. He and Freddy get separated due to the bear needing to charge, but without him, he can’t deny he feels a little lost, especially when everything is so unfamiliar. As he stumbles through the utility tunnels, he comes across two of the animatronics.

The first he encounters is the chicken animatronic. When he saw her upstairs playing on her guitar, Ranboo almost thought it to be cool. The way her mechanical hands strummed the guitar expertly reminded him of Wilbur in a way, and it made his heart pang in that moment. 

Now, he just regards her with disdain. 

With her blocking his way, Ranboo has to think sharply, and he’s glad for the instincts still in tact from his adulthood as it allows him to think quickly. He pushes over a stack of cans as a distraction, and without his matured instincts, he thinks that he probably would have died escaping that rabbit.

Creeping past the chicken, however, is perhaps his worst experience yet. 

Grime mucks the walls of the bathroom, all brown and greasy. He can tell it hasn’t been cleaned in years, and for some reason, scrap metal lies in a pile on the other side of the room. When he witnesses the chicken eating it as though a delicacy, he grimaces in disgust, even if some part of him deems it relatable somehow.

And not even five minutes later, the alligator animatronic crashes through a barrier specifically made for it—at least from the sign—and that thing.

That thing terrifies him. 

Unlike the chicken, this thing is a predator. Its snapping jaws and sharp claws threaten him at every turn he takes to escape it. If he thought Freddy’s claws would be painful if digging into his skin, he knows this thing would deliver a bite made to kill.

Ranboo doesn’t want to die, so he runs, even if his muscles scream in protest. The thing easily keeps up with him, though, and for every step he takes, it does too, with even more weight and strength behind it than he could ever hope to match. Lungs struggling, Ranboo begins to tire at a rate even his little body can’t escape. It doesn’t help when the chicken joins the alligator in its chase of him too.

Somehow, though, he’s able to clamber up the stairs with enough speed that the heavy animatronics simply cannot compete. He’s tempted to turn around and stick his tongue out at them, but they’ve already caught up with him by the time he talks himself out of giving into his impulses. When the alligator is within reaching distance of him, Ranboo finally reaches the security office. 

In, out, in, out, he thinks as carbon dioxide leaves him in ragged breaths, inhales filling him with oxygen. It revitalises his body, and he scans the desk for what he came here for. His eyes land upon the pass that enables him to access the cameras and he lets out a sigh of relief.

He’s unable to relax for long, though, as his ears prick upon the screech of metal yielding to pressure meeting his ears. Eyes widening, he swiftly turns his watch on to check the cameras, only for him to pale. The alligator animatronic punches the door with all it can, and if he stays in here any longer, Ranboo knows he really will die. 

That’s not to say he knows what to do though. The doors locked him upon his arrival, and won’t let him escape until three minutes have passed. Every second that passes on the timer is one more to damnation, he knows, as he feels beads of sweat on his forehead. 

Yet, when he hears the warm voice of Freddy in his ears, Ranboo’s muscles refrain from tensing so much. The bear speaks softly to him, soothing him, and even if one part of him complains at the coddling probably erasing his maturity, the majority of him chooses to enjoy the moment. 

When the doors finally open, Ranboo runs on tired legs. The alligator doesn’t follow, but the chicken does. This time, though, she’s much easier to evade and then he’s at the front of the building. 

It’s a ‘pizza plex’, according to Freddy. Ranboo can’t say he recognises what either of those words are, but since the doors are practically inviting his exit, he pays little attention to the thought. 

Instead, he rushes up to the doors, laughing, only for a disembodied voice to interrupt him. “The PizzaPlex has closed. Nighttime protocols activated.” 

Not knowing what any of those words mean, Ranboo just pales. Trixtin was right, he thinks bitterly, it won’t be as easy as I thought. All he cares about is going home, seeing his family and friends again, but with only the beginning being as dangerous as it was, he can only shake in horror of what’s to come.

He has six hours more of this hellhole according to Freddy, and Ranboo doesn’t know if he’ll survive, even if the bear is there to support him.

Chapter Text

No, no, no, no—

I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to—

It’s fruitless. 

With a final bang of his fists on the metal, Ranboo slides to the floor, shouting to an empty building. He hopes that anything will listen, hear his pleas and make his limbo any easier, but he knows that in this place, no such thing exists. (Except maybe Freddy, he thinks.)

He’s already skimmed death thrice and he’s barely survived an hour. How will I survive six more hours of this shit, he thinks bitterly as he curls up a ball. Somehow, making himself smaller really has proved to be quite soothing, at least so far.

When there’s no Freddy to spin spoken silk into his ears and provide something akin to comfort help, it’s the only thing he can do. A shaky exhale leaves his mouth as he pulls his thumb up to his neck to rest on it. In the process, it brushes against the angry handprint from that security guard, rabbit lady, whatever she is. 

Involuntarily, a sob rips from Ranboo’s dry throat, the throbbing pain blossoming into something ugly. It leaves him black and blue, and he stifles anymore sobs from leaving his mouth, for from the pulse hammering in his ears, there’s some part of him that fears what making too much noise would do in a place like this. 

It’s not like he can even call it childish, not when his anxieties are founded in logic and reason, rather than being built on false pretences. When he can’t fight the thoughts with thorough analysis that deconstructs them one by one, it leaves Ranboo with limited arsenal against much larger threats than he could ever pose to anyone. 

In fact, he wonders if his mind will prove to be his biggest enemy whilst he’s stuck surviving here as without it, he’d probably be up and moving by now. He knows he’s on limited time, and the longer he spends here, ruminating on himself and how bad his situation is, the less time he will have trying to escape.

With that, he stands up on shaky legs, barely supported by a resoluteness not yet rooted in anything concrete. The only thing pushing him to act is survival instinct and the thought of home, but maybe they aren’t enough. Maybe Freddy isn’t enough. Maybe he isn’t enough.

Ranboo pales the longer he continues down this line of thought. It makes his heart pound and his hands sweaty, but he can’t bring himself to stop. 

If he’s been set up to fail, how could he ever hope to survive? 

(The injustice he felt from before lingers, expanding, entering his very bloodstream and circulating into his every organ. It taints him from the inside out, poisoning his half-resigned mind.) 

“Ranboo?” A voice calls his name carefully, interrupting his stupor. “Are you there?”

Eyes blown wide, he barely manages to recognise the owner of that damn soft voice. It’s not the chicken, it’s not the alligator, no— it’s the only sane animatronic in this place. Freddy saves him in his time of need again and by Ender, he sure does seem to have a knack for it. Either it’s him being a child again, or this place elicits the worst kind of fear in him, but Ranboo sure is glad that Freddy is there for him.

He’ll say it, think it again and again if it means that the animatronic might realise it. Once again, his quick means of gaining attachments to things only bites him in the ass, but maybe it’s not a bad thing. 

They can do it.

“I—I’m here, Freddy,” Ranboo croaks, not from disuse but from how dry he’s made his throat from crying a little too much. Some part of him is still apprehensive about water anyway given that it used to burn him, and he doubts a place like this will have anything he can drink after hours. His mind flitters to drinking water from one of the sinks in those bathrooms downstairs, but he pales. The smell alone is enough for his nausea to return. 

“That’s great, superstar,” Freddy says, and Ranboo listens, hanging onto every word and how it makes his chest warm. “From here, you should get the entry ticket that will let you enter the main lobby and after that, you’ll need to go to the Daycare to get higher security clearance, okay?”

Even though Freddy can’t see him, Ranboo nods along, realising a few seconds too late that the animatronic was waiting for a verbal confirmation. He chirps out a small sound of agreement that seems to lift a weight off his chest he didn’t realise was there. Only a small part of him protests at how easily he slips back into that childish state where he is so easily soothed, but easily scared too. 

Although Ranboo would never consider himself a person to skip anywhere, he ends up doing so anyway. As he shuffles across the room, he almost feels like he’s on cloud nine, a different plane of existence that leaves him happy and sated, entirely without worry. He feels a little airy too, a little out of it, but he figures that this place just has a way of doing that. 

It wouldn’t be the oddest thing he’s experienced so far. 

Once he finds the pedestal with the gift box, Ranboo reaches for it carefully. He handles it with a precision he didn’t know he was capable of, unwinding it delicately. Eventually, the thing pops, the party poppers flying out almost causing him to sneeze. As his nose wrinkles up, Ranboo smiles upon seeing the supposed ticket. 

It’s one more step in what will probably some long adventure of exploring this place, he realises. There’s definitely something wrong here—besides his whole presence—and with a click, the gate opens. Oddly, a creature that he’s never seen before stands before him, cleaning of all things. 

Ranboo squints at it, brows furrowing. The squelching of the thing dipping its mop in the water bucket next to it as it works makes his teeth grit, but his curiosity draws him closer. 

It’s that final step towards the thing that condemns him. 

Upon drawing too close, the creature ceases its cleaning for a moment. Instead, it chooses to stare at him with black beady eyes that look utterly soulless. Not a single speck of mercy lies within them, and Ranboo can only compare them to the coldness of the Abyss without Trixtin. The longer he stares back, the more he becomes disconcerted. 

So, it takes him completely by surprise when the spindly arms of the creature reach out for him and before he can even react, it’s right in his face. If it could breathe, Ranboo imagines its breath would be hot gasps that make him shiver. He tries to look away as to avoid the thing’s gaze, but he doesn’t have the time to do so when his eyes lie upon the chicken animatronic. 

Almost as if she teleported to his location, the chicken begins to stagger towards him, lacking its previous energy when chasing him. The creature holding him, restraining him won’t let him go even in all of his squirming, kicking and clawing. He almost decides to give up in that moment, but in the corner of his eye, he sees a place to hide up a flight of stairs. 

After much effort, the sweat his panic produces is enough to allow him to slip free of the creature’s grasp. By that point, the chicken is but a hair’s length away from reaching for him, ripe for wrapping that beak around his neck. He imagines that the choking would be slow, a painful process that leaves him gasping for air, but never gaining enough. The thought urges him forwards.

Briefly, he stumbles on a stair and it almost causes him to fall. His neck throbs then and the reminder is enough to pump a final burst of adrenaline into his body that allows him to fling the curtain of whatever this place is shut. The chicken’s voice box seems to glitch with her repeated voice lines and she sounds ever so close. Ranboo swears he’s never became so still in his life. 

To check she’s gone, he brings up his Fazwatch to the cameras overlooking the main lobby. She’s back downstairs now and the breath he didn’t realise he was holding leaves his mouth in a gasp. It’s out of relief, really, and Ranboo looks around his chosen hideyhole. The word ‘photos’ lights up the screen in front of him, and though he’s familiar with photos, it’s not like this. He’s used to small, primitive cameras that pale in comparison to something as advanced as this.

If Ranboo were an actual kid who arrived during the day—and he wasn’t fighting for survival at that moment—he probably would’ve explored all of the intricacies of the technology here. As much as he would like to try the machine out, he knows he can’t as the warning of making noise persists in his mind like a bad smell.

With that, he exits it quietly, making sure that his footsteps are light and calculated, maybe like that security guard’s. If she’s not dead yet—and somehow even threatens the animatronics without getting even at least clawed—Ranboo decides that drawing from her technique might increase his chances of survival. Sure, the woman seems a bit unhinged, but he’ll use anything if it means he gets an upper hand against his adversaries.

In his exploration of the lobby, he stumbles upon the gift shop. Freddy mumbles something about ‘knickknacks’ and ‘doodads’ through the Fazwatch—whatever those mean—but he just laughs at how cheesy they sound. He makes sure not to be too loud, but the pop of the gift box he opens is plenty. 

Instead of laughing, though, Ranboo only frowns at what he finds inside. “What even is this thing?”

”It’s a magnet, superstar!” Freddy replies, catching him off guard.

In, out, in, out, he reminds himself before speaking again. “That doesn’t really explain much, but it looks pretty lame either way.”

The silence that hangs in the air unsettles him. Everything seems to get even noisier when there’s nothing to pierce the quiet and Ranboo goes to open his mouth before he’s interrupted. 

“I’m sorry, Ranboo, I really am,” the bear says with a melancholic note that makes him frown. The fact that Freddy phrases in a way that sounds almost…rehearsed confuses him, especially when he has nothing to apologise for. He just shrugs, creeping downstairs again to get the Daycare pass. This time, there’s no encounter with the chicken and he swears he’s never held his breath for as long as he did when he slipped past her, remaining undetected. 

The Daycare door opens and if Ranboo was expecting anything, it certainly wasn’t this.

The place is huge.

How big even is this place, Ranboo wonders, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape in his awe. This would undeniably be a kid’s paradise, and his child brain pushes him to enter the world of colour. Some part of him feels like it’s a trap almost, because why else would this place be so alluring to kids? 

Because it’s a kids’ restaurant, duh, he thinks to himself, chastising his own line of thought. Throwing caution to the wind, Ranboo jumps in headfirst into the slide. Even though friction drags at his exposed skin—probably leaving surface level cuts in its wake—he starts to laugh through the pain. Most of Ranboo’s childhood is a blur, so it’s no surprise he revels in the joy the Daycare elicits in him. 

In the process, he ends up forgetting one of his own rules: don’t make too much noise. Ranboo’s head snaps up to the far wall when a voice sounds from within, drawing open a curtain to reveal what looks like an animatronic. Whilst all the others he’s met so far have been based off animals, he can’t quite guess what this one is. Whatever they are makes his stomach churn as they ramble incoherently to themself before proceeding to dive into the ball pit. 

With him. 

A shout tears from his throat, his eyes widening as he feels like the thing will probably try to drown him in balls, of all things. Ranboo wades through the pit with great effort (once again cursing his newfound shortness) until a hand grasps at his ankle. It causes him to go slack and the animatronic swiftly reappears with him hanging upside down. 

“Whoo-hoo! A new friend!” They say excitedly, but the blood rushing to his head makes it hard for him to understand anything. His vision blurs a little and as he opens his mouth to protest, they cut him off. 

“Ah-ah! No complaining!” The animatronic presses a cold finger to his mouth, and Ranboo looks at it indignantly. Only with him glowering at it does he realise it’s modelled after the sun. He doesn’t figure out why until they warn him to leave the lights on and drop him to the floor. The pain that erupts across his body is pushed to the back of his mind, though, as he knows he’s got bigger fish to fry at that moment.

Maybe they only work in the light, Ranboo briefly thinks to himself. The thing won’t shut up about a sleepover and glitter glue and he’s on the verge of blowing his lid if it doesn’t shut up. As soon as he moves, too, they always drag him back into place so they can watch over him, or something. I don’t need you for that, Ranboo thinks as he rolls his eyes, his efforts to slink away continuing to get thwarted, I have Freddy, thanks.

Finally, his eyes land upon what might be his saviour. A stack of cans, ripe and ready for kicking over. If this thing seems to be as meticulous as he thinks it is—what with how it’s been picking at the dried tear tracts and bruises on his face for the past five minutes—he imagines that it’ll be distracted by a mess too.

Turns out he’s right as they squawk about ‘clean up, clean up’ repeatedly, enabling him to scurry away from his captor for a few minutes. He breathes out a sigh of relief, grabbing the badge and fastening it onto a shirt.

That’s when everything goes dark. 

For a moment, Ranboo thinks he’s back in the Abyss with how it feels like the coldness is about to take him for its own in those few moments of silence. What breaks it is the animatronic from before appearing out of nowhere, right in front of him.

He staggers backwards as they continue to ramble about the lights, they need them to be on. Pained screams tear from its voicebox and maybe Ranboo isn’t the one that’s dying. Only when they fall back off the desk does he realise his ill attention will kill him one day.

”Bad children who turn off the lights need to be punished,” the animatronic—or, at least, what it’s become—hisses, red eyes piercing the darkness with an angry hue that stings his own. “Nighty-night!”

Suddenly, the thing leaps at him and Ranboo has no time to react before he’s forced under its full weight. To his little body, it’s suffocating and he can’t breathe. His lungs try to expand as much as they can in order to take every last fraction of oxygen in the air, but it’s not enough.

Ranboo recognises this pain, though. Or, maybe it’s a feeling— the resignation of death. He stops struggling after a few minutes. He stops breathing after five. 

Moon isn’t what one would exactly prefer as a caretaker for their child, they know. They can’t even count the number of times some kid has complained about them to the staff, causing them to be decommissioned them for a few days to sort out their ‘malfunctions’. But Moon is not Sun, and how can they be at fault for a flaw in its programming? 

They are but a bot with a purpose to attend the Daycare and that’s it, even if it means scaring the kids they’re meant to protect. Though, Moon hasn’t been in close quarters with an intruder quite like this before. Usually, it’s Roxy who deals with them as the advanced technology in her eyes allows her to deal with any threat quickly, but today, it’s them.

Today is different though. Today is the first time that Moon realises what they’ve done. 

In the dark is Moon’s domain. Their optic sensors are well-suited for lower light environments, allowing them to shine where others might not and they thus can see what exactly it is they’re metaphorically paling at. Usually, it’s Roxy who tells them about the adult intruders who come in, thinking they’re defenceless machines. They would compliment her in turn for offering her protection to everyone, keeping them safe. She would glow.

But today, it’s a child.

The lights flicker for a moment, and Moon can see them in even starker detail. They’re perhaps the oddest human they’ve ever bore witness to, but they are most certainly unmoving. They are most certainly not breathing. 

In the edges of their database, Moon knows this isn’t the first time something like this has happened and it won’t be last either. It doesn’t stop them from feeling…something, though. A heavy weight hangs in their chest as their eyes study this boy. He’s ever so small, ever so young. 

It probably isn’t his first time dealing with an animatronic either, judging from the bruises and cuts scattering the boy’s frame. Even though Moon isn’t meant to feel remorse, something might just twinge deep in their circuits for a moment that’s akin to it. By gifting them sentience, their creators essentially damned them. 

Moon is not flesh, they are metal, moulded not by nature, but by man. They will never understand what it means to be human, but maybe, just maybe, this motionless boy in front of them may spark something in their programming. A fraction of independent thought, born of ones and zeroes into their own word. 

(“Snuffed out too quickly,” the workers in the morning might shrug, desensitised to the murders of children, “oh well.”

And with that, Ranboo might as well be forgotten in another world too.) 

Moon stares for a while longer, pondering, ruminating on what this boy has flickered on within them. They don’t know why they care, but the image of a little, motionless body in their Daycare does not sit right with them. It’s not like they can call anyone to take him away, except probably Vanessa. The woman rarely comes in the Daycare, so they shake their head. 

Shuffling from behind them makes their head snap to the boy, and somehow he’s gone. They laugh, the weight in their chest disappearing, the spark ebbing. (They might just linger.)

Ranboo takes in deep breaths like he’s never felt the rush of oxygen in his lungs before. He hides in one of the play structures, the chortling of the animatronic chilling him to the very bone. It had just killed him, yet here it was— laughing, mocking him! 

He grits his teeth, and though he might say the tears that threaten to leave his eyes are born of frustration, they most certainly are not. It’s fear thrumming through his veins, not anger. In fact, the stale air of the play structure only seems to press on him from all his sides as the laughs of the animatronic draws closer. 

Something about generators flits to the front of his mind and it spurs him into action. Even though he moves on shaky limbs, he crawls through each structure to find every last one. The first, second, third and fourth are all easy enough, but he struggles with the fifth.

He can’t find the fifth. 

Ranboo swears he’s turned the place upside down five times by now, but it’s futile, pointless even. Exhaustion weighs down his movements, and the darkness certainly isn’t comforting to someone who’s stuck as a child. In fact, it makes all of his senses increase tenfold. 

Ranboo is so, so aware, but he can’t find the fifth. He wishes Freddy was here so that he wasn’t alone, he fucking hates being alone, he always has—

A red light, but not angry and followed by laughter flickers into his vision. The source is still undeniably mechanical, but not unkind. Uncaring of the possibility of death, Ranboo runs into the open. The animatronic notices immediately, but he’s glad the generator is on the bottom floor. He’s just in time for the thing to turn on, and the lights blind him for a moment. 

Slumping to the floor, Ranboo revels in his victory for a moment, only for the animatronic to interrupt it as soon as it started. 

“Whoo-hoo! I warned you, didn’t I?” They hissed with the same ferocity as the being in the dark. “Banned, I say! Security! Security!”

With that, he’s thrown to the floor outside the Daycare. It takes him a moment to realise that the thumping surrounding him isn’t the throbbing of a headache, but that of animatronic feet. That stirs him into action immediately and though his eyes have yet to adjust to his surroundings, he immediately recognises the presence of one of them.

“Ranboo, hurry! I’m over here!” Freddy directs, causing Ranboo to stumble blindly towards him. The chest cavity invites him inside and just as he swears he feels a sharp claw dig into his leg, he’s no longer exposed. He curls in on himself, allowing Freddy to do as he wants for a few moments. 

Nausea suddenly rises in Ranboo’s throat as his vision blurs. Instead of its usual hue, static festers in the corner of his eyes. The limited space of Freddy’s chest cavity means he can do little to escape the fact the rabbit woman from before just skipped, right in front of him. He doesn’t know how he saw it, but he did. That means she must be looking for him, right? 

Bleary-eyed, he blinks rapidly to stave off any remaining static, only to realise Freddy was completely still. The crackle of electrical energy in the air tells him that he’s charging, but he can’t help but knock on the chest cavity anyway. 

“Freddy?”

”Ranboo?”

”Can I ask you something?” Ranboo asks hesitantly and somehow, it feels like breaching an awkward topic with a parent. Although he doesn’t have much experience with that sort of thing, he can’t help but feel it fits perfectly well. He feels the bear nod, so he continues.

”Is—is there a rabbit here at the PizzaPlex?” Ranboo’s fingers thrum against the sides of the metal in the rhythm of a song he can’t quite remember. Maybe it’s one of Wilbur’s, he thinks absentmindedly. Which one, he doesn’t know, but the tune distracts him. He briefly wonders if it’s something like the L’Manberg anthem that’s stuck in his head, but he’s jarred from his musings when Freddy goes even more stiff.

Oh yeah, he grits his teeth, this isn’t home. Here, there’s nothing that brings community quite like Wilbur’s nation did—at least, from what Ranboo has seen. Maybe the animatronics act as a hive mind when hunting him down, but he doesn’t think that’s much of a community, not like L’Manberg was. He shakes his head then, not wanting to get lost in the past.

By Ender, he’s surprised that L’Manberg is more than a blur in his brain. For some reason, ever since he’s got here, Ranboo can feel things slipping from his mind, and not the way they usually do. It’s akin to his amnesia, but here, it feels like he’s losing a part of himself, rather than having the memories hidden by fog he can’t quite wade through. He grimaces, the feeling of wrongness returning tenfold. Freddy stopping only amplifies it, and a thought of being told off by the bear makes him almost want to laugh.

He doesn’t know why.

“There used to be a rabbit here, but…” Freddy somehow exhales, at least attempting to imitate the motion, “…not anymore.”

Why, Ranboo almost goes to say, but he stops himself. Something about Freddy’s hesitation disconcerts him.

Freddy asks him that question himself. He says it shortly, lacking in his usual warmth. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about this, Ranboo frowns, but he manages a reply anyway. “I—I think I saw the—the one that tried to hurt me, dancing of all things, but I don’t know how…”

”Well, superstar, so long as you have me around,” Freddy says softly, and there’s the tone Ranboo’s already gotten used to, ”you don’t have to worry.”

He goes to smile to himself, but he pauses. One thing that had been itching at his mind was why was Freddy different? Every other animatronic in this place had tried to kill him, but Freddy was…

He was fatherly friendly. He was Ranboo’s guide in this strange, unfamiliar world…

But why Freddy? 

“Is there something bothering you, Ranboo?” Freddy asks and somehow, Ranboo thinks the bear has developed a knack for knowing when something’s wrong with him, even if they’ve only known each other for under two hours. (Wow, he really does get emotionally attached quickly.)

“Freddy…why are you different?” Ranboo asks hesitantly, because this once again feels like it might cause the bear to go all stiff. It just feels awkward, like something he should have just let hang in the air and remain unsaid.

“What do you mean?”

”Everyone else in this place is out to kill me, but you…” Ranboo pauses, unable to find the words even with his extended vocabulary, “…you haven’t. You’ve helped me, made me feel better.”

Even though Ranboo can’t see the bear’s physical reaction due to being inside his chest, Freddy doesn’t stop. He just lets out a cryptic chuckle, and Ranboo’s brows just furrow. 

“I…I’m not sure myself, if I’m entirely honest,” Freddy says, “I think it might have something to do with my malfunction yesterday.”

‘Malfunction’ is a word he’s heard a lot today. Ranboo doesn’t quite know why, but the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It feels like forcibly correcting a wrong, but in the cruelest way possible— without their consent, even. (Ranboo remembers the strange “I’m sorry,” from the bear earlier after he got the magnet, and he wonders if that’s born of this strange word too.)

“But maybe the others do want to help you, they just don’t know how,” Freddy finishes, and it plants a seed of something in Ranboo’s head. If one of them can be this…merciful, kind, parently, why can’t the rest? 

He thinks it over in his head whilst Freddy leads them somewhere. Ranboo almost feels like he’s drifting, but it’s on a cloud rather than some shifting ocean. He’s there, but not at the same time, and with the comfortable silence hanging in the air, Ranboo doesn’t even realise his eyes are drooping, nor his tired limbs finally revelling in the chance to rest for a moment. 

A voice cuts through his calm.

Chapter Text

“Ah, Freddy, I’ve been looking for you,” the owner of the voice greets cordially, and Ranboo can’t help but roll his eyes in exasperation. I don’t have time for this, he thinks. They sound feminine, but the cheeriness in their voice indicates that they are definitely not Vanessa and he’s glad for it. If Ranboo wants, he could probably see who it was by looking through Freddy’s eyes, but when exhaustion clings to his bones like it does, he can’t bring himself to do so. 

Instead, Freddy rumbles, maybe as a laugh, maybe as a groan, he can’t quite tell. Whatever it is, Ranboo can feel it shake the bear’s chest and it…warms him, somehow. Maybe it’s some animatronic way of showing emotions, he thinks, but then that’s just a whole different rabbit hole because how far does their sentience really go? They’re more advanced than anything he’s ever seen in his world, and more Builder than a lot of people he knows.

Shrugging it off, Ranboo goes back to wondering who this is. They’re most certainly an animatronic, but if the rumble really was a groan, he can’t imagine Freddy would be annoyed with any of his…friends? He seems too kind for that, even if they leave a bad taste in Ranboo’s mouth. By Ender, one of them had even killed him (condemned him to Death, his mind hisses), so even with Freddy making him wonder if they are trying to help, he can’t exactly bring himself to trust them. Something tells him that Freddy doesn’t know why they are acting so…wrong, either.

When the Moon animatronic suffocated him under its immense weight—and he subsequently died—Ranboo was, for a moment, numb, cold even. Neither of those feelings were unwanted to him then, at least until they ripped a scream out of his dry throat. He remembers pain blooming across his entire body, feeling every little thing wrong with him getting healed, but at the cost of feeling it.

Every wound being sewn together, broken bones cracking to meld the break…he screamed and screamed until he couldn’t anymore, but it was to no avail. In his world, they had healing potions to stop the pain, but here…here, there was nothing. The Abyss was the same.

So, it’s no surprise when he can’t help but shiver at the prospect of dying again, especially at the hands of an animatronic. Moon was possibly worse than the alligator—or, Monty, from what he remembers from Freddy’s ramblings through the Fazwatch—even. All of them make hot tears prick at the edges of his eyes, and his gut churning tells him that it might be easier said than done to actually trust anyone in this place besides Freddy.

A sudden movement from the bear jostles him from his stupor, and he almost lets out a cry of surprise, only to bite his lip until he feels it become hot with blood. Someone was still there, and he couldn’t make a sound, not unless he wanted to just offer himself to the animatronic on a silver platter.

He hadn’t been listening at all, so he could only guess what was wrong. Maybe it was a disagreement, or something else. Whatever it was, Ranboo knows it’s not good for him, if the banging on Freddy’s chest cavity is any indication.

”Chica! What are you doing?” Freddy shouts, and it makes Ranboo’s eyes widen. Hearing the bear raise his voice sounds foreign to his ears and when directed at one of the animatronics, it sounds even more out of place. At least, he can guess that this is the chicken he’s talking to, but what on Ender happened for her to do that?

His question is answered when Ranboo feels Freddy jerk again. It causes him to let out a barely stifled whimper from hitting his head on one of the metal walls, and she must hear it from how she squawks in delight.

”Freddy, there’s something inside your chest, isn’t there?” She says excitedly, probably clasping her hands together, but to Ranboo, it only causes his anxiety to spike. If she opens the chest cavity, he’ll lose his one permanent hiding spot, and he’ll most likely die.

He wants to avoid either possibility if he has any say in the matter. Even if this place kills him a million times over the course of the night, Ranboo knows that the cold embrace of Death pricking at his skin, dislodging his soul from its current body and shoving him back into the Abyss to be reconstructed from the molecules up will be a feeling he never forgets. Grimacing, he only barely manages to catch Freddy’s reply to the chicken.

“No there’s not, Chica,” Freddy says calmly, even if Ranboo can tell it’s a façade, meaning the chicken most likely can too. “My chest is reserved for oversized birthday cakes, and piñatas, nothing else.”

”I don’t buy it, but I suppose I’ll leave you alone for now,” she laughs sweetly, before her voice takes on a darker edge that makes Ranboo break into a cold sweat. “Also, did you hear about that kid?”

Freddy stiffens and by Ender, he wonders how he hasn’t been discovered yet with how obvious the bear is. There’s clearly something wrong with him, and if Freddy is as good friends with the rest of the animatronics as he says he is, Ranboo thinks they must be pretty dumb themselves to not notice.

That’s not to say anxiety doesn’t coil in his gut still, even if his brain thinks dryly. Rather, his hair sticks to his forehead and his arms stick to his sides. Maybe if he doesn’t move anymore, she won’t be provoked into trying to open the chest cavity again. He feels Freddy nod about him knowing about the kid (him) and it feels like the conversation with Vanessa.

There’s that constant thought in the back of his mind to not trust anyone in case they do blow his cover. Even if Freddy’s the only one that knows where he is right now, some part of him—the one that clings onto the memories of the other world, his most cynical and insulting part—can’t trust him wholly, unlike the rest. The rest of him has accepted the bear as his sole friend in this hellhole, but there’s always that vocal minority of thoughts in his brain, niggling at him until it’s all he can think of. 

Ranboo feels lightheaded all of a sudden and he can’t quite place a finger on why until he releases the breath he was holding in a gasp—a gasp that definitely made too much noise. Muscles tensing, he prepares himself for Chica to throw the chest cavity open, probably tearing Freddy apart if it means she can get to him. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to him except taking him to that rabbit lady and considering how she tried to kill him, he can certainly tell that would be his worst option. 

Somehow, before Chica is able to investigate any further, Freddy is able to divert her attention away from Ranboo and back to him. The bear moves away from her too, and his quickened breathing slows a little. The further away he is, the more chance he is of being able to survive her chasing him should he need to sprint. 

“I’m sure Vanessa or Roxy will be able to find him, Chica. They always do,” Freddy says with finality, but Ranboo knows Chica will push. She must know something is awfully suspicious about Freddy, and from his limited knowledge of her, he knows she’ll be relentless in getting any information. 

At least, that’s where he thinks, until she simply turns around, resuming whatever she was doing before they arrived. Ranboo’s brows furrow, because he was sure she would press, and once again, he’s taught that this world is not his own. He is but a child traversing an unfamiliar world vastly different to his home, every turn a choice between life and death…

He feels confused, if anything. Maybe Freddy is right, Ranboo thinks, I don’t know everything about them, so it’s no surprise she acted differently than expected. He just doesn’t know why it feels like such a punch to the gut; at least, that’s until he realises it was probably just the more mature part of him realising it was wrong for once. His thoughts were wrong. 

A small smile tugs at his lips, only for him and him only to see.

”Ranboo, are you okay?” Freddy asks once they’re in a more secluded area— an ‘elevator’, according to the bear when Ranboo got curious and asked. Apparently, it moves between floors of the building and when compared to the water elevators back home (the ones he can’t even use without burning), he knows which one he prefers. It’s just a shame that if—once, he reminds himself—he’s revived, he won’t be able to revel in any of this technology anymore. Though, by that point, Ranboo imagines that most of it will have lost its childish novelty.

Once Ranboo hops out of Freddy’s chest cavity, he lands on shaky feet. It feels a bit odd to be moving himself when he’s been carried for what was probably a bit too long. He nods at Freddy’s question regardless, even as he doesn’t stay still in order to rid himself of any lingering pins and needles in his limbs. Freddy eyes him oddly, but Ranboo just laughs in return. 

He supposes that he’s more relaxed here because one, it’s just him and Freddy and two, nothing can get them. The elevator constantly moves, so even if any of the others felt his presence, they wouldn’t be able to find him—so long as they weren’t patrolling their destination. 

Whilst they’re waiting, Ranboo bounces backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, a childish gesture that feels predetermined in his genes. He swears he did it during his actual childhood, but the thought only worries him, because he swears that every time he thinks of the other world, it gets blurrier, and he doesn’t want to forget. 

Not when he was just beginning to remember what he forgot—at least before he died.

Before he can fall wholly into a panic attack, music interrupts his thoughts. It’s not a song he recognises—not that he’d expect to anyway, this wasn’t his world after all—but Freddy seems to. The bear hums along, an endearing sound that has Ranboo leaning against him to listen more intently. The sound pulls on his eyes, causing them to droop again, before he wakes himself up with a sudden sneeze.

”What was that?” Freddy says, startled and staring down at him. Ranboo looks back, because what was he talking about? The sneeze, or something else? He couldn’t quite tell. 

“If you’re asking about what I just did, it was a sneeze,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. For some reason, Ranboo feels all prickly and his muscles are tensed, even if he can’t identify any threat himself. And then, Freddy grins at him, and it’s somehow endearing, even though it looks right odd. He has no clue why Freddy gazes at him with such warmth, at least until he realises how the sneeze sounded. 

Catlike, probably, and he pinches his nose in exasperation. This body continues to betray him, embarrass him even and— and… maybe it’s not as bad as he thinks. With the way Freddy smiled at him, all warm and kind, maybe it was…again, Ranboo struggles to find the words. Okay comes to his mind briefly, but some part of him still remains standoffish in showing his vulnerability as openly as he has. In a place that’s out to kill him, he understands the thought, but doesn’t allow it to fester by placing it under any further scrutiny. 

Instead, he lets his arms fall to his sides and as he does, the door clicks open, revealing a whole other world for him to explore. Whilst he doesn’t let one thought fester, he allows another to, and that’s the childish—if morbid—curiosity he’s acquired. Ranboo vaguely remembers taking things at face value most of the time in another world, but here, this child brain fans that flame of undiscovered curiosity he was never able to develop in his own childhood. It plays a chord of gratefulness in his heart, even if the situation surrounding it is very much not worthy of such feelings.

As he scampers outside the elevator, Freddy follows behind. There’s more security bots than downstairs, making Ranboo why on Ender a kids’ restaurant would need so much security. His lips set into a firm line at the thought, because he doesn’t want to have to outrun any more animatronics if he can avoid it, so it’s no surprise when he ends up back within Freddy’s chest cavity a few moments later.

”Ranboo, you do realise that I won’t be able to carry you all the time, don’t you?” The bear reminds him and he rolls his eyes. He knows that already, by Ender. He’s not some stupid child who needs to be told everything. (But you’ve been completely fine with that up until now, what’s changed?

Shut up, shut up— Ranboo thinks, even if he knows he’s just scared.)

He blinks a few times, trying to silent his turbulent mind. It’s returned to that violent barrage of waves, foam battering the sides of his skull. Ranboo stifles a whimper, and goes back to feigning being fine, even if he knows Freddy will notice sooner rather than later. (At least, that’s what he hopes.)

His wish is granted when Freddy stops outside of some shop called El’s Chips, and in telling Ranboo he needs to leave his chest, he immediately lets out a groan. Out of pain, to generate sympathy, he doesn’t know, but whatever it is, it makes his cheeks redden in embarrassment. Freddy looks at him suspiciously, or maybe it’s a different emotion he can’t quite describe. Concern, maybe, but it feels stronger than that.

”What’s that noise?” Freddy asks, completely out of nowhere as his ears twitch, listening. He moves closer to Ranboo and it causes him to tense, because any other time, the bear stopping and listening would most certainly signify danger. 

Yet, Freddy listens out not for danger, but for Ranboo. He can hear everything with his advanced auditory systems, as well as the Fazwatch tracking his other details. The boy’s heartbeat remains higher than normal and his breathing faster, but Freddy can’t blame him if he’s that fearful.

He wasn’t there for the Daycare, or for the encounters with his friends in the utility tunnels, but Ranboo certainly came back shaken. (Something about that leaves Freddy’s circuits all in a knot, because it’s odd—why would they hurt a guest? It’s outside of their programming.)

What he listens out for in that moment, though, is not his heartbeat, nor his breathing. Rather, it’s the boy’s (his charge’s, some part of his system deep down thinks) stomach growling voraciously that makes him stop. Freddy’s system is adaptable, incredibly so, but he never expected that his advanced technology would ever be used for something so…trivial. (And he means trivial as in normal. Freddy wouldn’t mind caring for the boy beyond this night.)

Despite only meeting Ranboo two hours ago, his AI adapts quickly, latching onto this new objective of protect, hide, nurture, even if all of those concepts go against his programming. At his very core, Freddy is a robot made for entertaining children, not protecting them. That’s something that Roxy’s built for, not him. Never him. 

What Freddy does is sing and dance and sometimes present the cake or piñata to a birthday child. That’s what his chest has capacity for—making children happy, not withholding a strange boy from Freddy’s own friends. Though, his system reasons, if keeping the boy from the others makes him happy, maybe it’s not so outlandish to act as he does. 

Maybe it’s the malfunction that births this…rebellion (independent thought) within him. Before, Freddy rarely acted outside of his predetermined lines and role, even if the others often pushed him to do more. The Freddy then wanted nothing more to be the perfect face of the Mega PizzaPlex, so he never broke character, even when no one was looking.

But, with the arrival of this boy, Freddy has…changed. He acts in accordance with this new role so long as Ranboo is safe, and right now, he needs nourishment. Luckily for them, they’re standing right outside a restaurant—or, at least, what remains of it after hours. He’s sure that there’s something frozen he could whip together if he looked hard enough. 

“…Freddy…” the boy calls his name, voice all small, and he looks utterly torn, “…what are you doing?”

”I’m making you something to eat, Ranboo. Your stomach is rumbling pretty loudly,” Freddy exclaims, and the expression on the boy’s face is not what he expects. From what he’s learnt so far about him, Ranboo, if snarky at times, is ultimately just a scared kid. He can see in those eyes a fear he knows well— unfamiliarity and with it, confusion. But, Ranboo just stares at him, mouth falling open. 

“…Wuh—what? ‘M not hungry, come on, we can continue,” Ranboo says hastily upon coming back to his senses, it seems like. (Because the last thing Ranboo ate was potatoes. For a week straight. Even then, the dispenser was sporadic, so he’s not surprised at his hunger. It doesn’t make him any more likely to co-operate.)

”Are you sure, superstar?” Freddy asks again, concern plastered on his face, because with how he’s so keen to just move on from the whole thing, the bear is rightfully confused. His systems agree that the boy should surely be bouncing around happily at the prospect of food, but either his calculations were off, or Ranboo is an outlier. But, the boy just nods his head again quickly, and his confusion lingers. 

For Ranboo, as much as he appreciates Freddy looking out for him, he can’t help but find some of it to be…coddling. He fears that if he falls into a mindset that relishes in being a child too much, he’ll forget, and if he forgets, he won’t be able to see home again. Though, it’s not like anyone in this world is going to believe this is actually his limbo, or that he’s actually an adult (barely eighteen) stuck as a child. So, when he snaps at Freddy to stop, voice rising with his annoyance, Ranboo isn’t surprised, but the bear sure is. 

“I…I just don’t understand. From what I can tell, you’re starving, but you won’t accept the food I’m offering you,” Freddy’s mechanical voice wavers somehow. “Why?”

It’s a question he can reply to with many answers. “I don’t know what any of this food even is,” is one, but then so is “I just got out of prison, and if it isn’t potatoes, my body will probably reject it.” Both of them sound horrendous coming from a child, but Ranboo is not a child. He’s a man, even if he physically looks otherwise. So, he, of course, answers with just that.

”I’m not a kid, Freddy! I can look after myself,” Ranboo says stubbornly, even if he regrets saying it a minute later. He doesn’t even know why he’s clutching on so much to this falsehood, because surely nothing too bad will happen if he just submits to the child brain he’s acquired. 

Ranboo knows what will happen, somewhere, somehow, deep in his bones, but he’s so tired, and it’s only been two hours. He has five to go and…he thinks that maybe a little break would help. 

Regardless, Freddy doesn’t realise that he’s not acting on his stubbornness anymore. Instead, the bear just eyes him with those expressive things that tell him all he needs to know. Freddy looks guilty for offering him food that he rejected.

That’s when Ranboo finally speaks again. 

“…’M sorry, I actually am hungry, it’s just—” he starts, but he can’t find the words. There’s been a lot of that today, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s the childishness…wearing away at the neural pathways made in his maturing, so he’s just a blank slate, all his memories gone. The thought makes his fists clench, and that’s why he’s being so stubborn. 

He’s afraid. Afraid of asking for help, being vulnerable, because when you’re as much of a pushover as he is in another world, you learn that you get used until you don’t have a purpose  anymore. Sure, the Syndicate didn’t, Tubbo didn’t, Tommy didn’t, but…they’re just outliers. Freddy is too, it seems like. A world full of bad must have a little good, right? 

For some reason, his thoughts calm down at that. It’s a childish conclusion, sure, but it soothes his mind like physical affection might (even if he feels like the calm waves might still wash away his memories).

Freddy puts a hand on his shoulder, and Ranboo will admit it for once. It’s comforting, and paternal— both of which he’s experienced little of, even at home. He basks in it, just this once, for he knows that by the end of the night, he might not feel like this again. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, he’s yet to decide.

With that, Freddy finds some pizza mix and despite being right next to an arcade they can’t yet access due to Ranboo needing a map from somewhere, he ends up sitting and eating the pizza instead. He’s never eaten anything like it before, and nothing in his vocabulary can quite describe it to the extent he feels would do it justice. Deliciously greasy are the words he find suit the food best, and Ranboo doesn’t miss the potatoes at all.

What does catch Ranboo completely by surprise, though, is the sudden appearance of a new animatronic. It looks like the ones he sees everywhere: cleaning, patrolling—whatever task there is to do, they do it, but this one looks more…specific. He can’t recognise the symbol on its shirt, but unlike the others, this one speaks.

Although not in a fluid way like him or any of the main animatronics, it’s coherent speech nevertheless. The thing scares him half to death upon its initial appearance, but after finally accepting the map it holds out to him, Ranboo thinks it’s grown on him. 

Any warmth hanging in his chest soon disappears, though. Freddy tells him he has to go into the arcade alone, and he’s still against the idea, even if his protests go ignored. They’d just had a moment together, but Ranboo deep down understands. An animatronic can’t break its programming (or, can it?), so he drags his feet into the arcade, shutters closing behind him.

It makes him whip his head around, because that cuts off easy escape. Now—if he ever needs to—he’ll need to heave a heavy ass shutter open and with how frail this body seems, Ranboo isn’t surprised if he ends up struggling. Though, with Freddy being right on the outside, he’s sure that he’ll be fine if he makes enough noise. 

From what he remembers, there might be a potential exit here locked behind a fire escape. Now, Ranboo didn’t really know that was a thing before coming to this world, but he thinks the idea is utterly ingenious. If he survives—and surely he will—he’ll spread the notion to his own world. It’s much safer than having to escape through the flames, or needing a water bucket on you at all times in case something caught fire. Once again, he feels himself slip back in his childlike state from awe alone. 

Wide-eyed, he scans the area, eyeing all the machines. Ranboo knows vaguely of video games—only from his brief stint in this world and Freddy’s mentioning of them—but they sound unbelievably cool. If he can play them here (safely, he reminds himself, even if it sounds oddly similar to Freddy’s voice, that always comes first) he’ll definitely try, because his curiosity must be sated. 

Though, even trying to boot one up leaves Ranboo utterly confused. The buttons mock him with all their bright colours, and their inability to just do what he wants frustrates him to no end. In his poorly pent-up frustration, he kicks the thing, and the atmosphere shifts from somewhat placid to tense. 

Oh yeah, this is a matter of life or death. How smart is he to just attract one of the animatronics in the area to his current location? 

Even if he chastises himself for his actions, he can’t help the way his attention lies more on the fact he’s being searched for. Ranboo desperately scans the room for somewhere to hide and one of the photo booths from before looks good enough. Just as he pushes the curtain closed, footsteps stop right in front of him. He starts to shake a little, and then they start to mock him.

”Come out, you pathetic coward,” the animatronic coos, sickly sweet and filling his ears with the poison of her words. “If not, kid, I’ll kill you myself because this has gone on for far too long.”

She continues on like that for a good few minutes and with each insult, Ranboo can feel his resolve cracking. Somehow, she manages to play the fiddle of his every insecurity, and some part of him wants to just give in if it’ll make her stop in her relentless verbal barrage.

The thing is, he is a coward. That makes his heart pang the most, because his indecision—more often than not—caused something to go wrong and the one time he took matters into his own hands, he died.

He doesn’t know what’s more grim— her words, or his experiences making them all the more personal. Ranboo knows that she knows he’s in here too, and that terrifies him. She circles around his hiding spot like a predator circling its prey, and if he just had a distraction, he might just be able to become within one inch of Death and survive.

Although he can’t call Freddy to the location, the bear still answers when he sends a message through the Fazwatch for him to bang on the shutter outside the arcade. Of course, he complies, and the animatronic draws away, letting him survive a bit longer. 

With a sigh of relief, Ranboo goes to check the doors into the Prize Counter. To his dismay, both of them are locked, and he voices his concern to Freddy. The bear directs him to a security office, because once again, why on Ender does this place need so much security? 

It’s like a prison, he thinks bitterly, and with how he’s trapped inside, he supposes it’s not too far off. He almost laughs because from that perspective, he’s basically jumped through worlds to go from one prison to another. Its ridiculousness offers a humour he probably wouldn’t have found funny before.

When he eventually finds the vent that leads to the security office after a few minutes too long of searching, that’s when everything starts to go downhill. As soon as he clambers into the vent, he thinks everything is completely fine until he hears musical instruments sound from behind him. Head whipping around to look at the perpetrator, his eyes meet with some twisted…spider? It has enough legs to be one, but certainly not eyes. 

Each musical instrument the spider carries is out of tune and with each movement, they clash into cacophony, not symphony. To Ranboo, it’s too much. The sound makes his ears burn with the displeasure of each motion, and it keeps him in place. For what? 

Well, it’s obvious in a place that has Freddy Fazbear’s face on it in this world, apparently. 

The little animatronic screeches, jumping straight onto his face. All that cacophony is even louder now, and his sensitive ears can hardly cope with the awful noise. He claws profusely at the thing, but it’s fruitless. His struggling just makes it worse, really, because the jagged edges of the musical instruments it carries start to dig deeper into his skin. 

The cuts go from wounds to injuries so deep that Ranboo knows will it kill him. A phantom pain blooms across his stomach then, causing him to lurch forwards. It’s too much, make it stop, he pleads, even if he knows nothing will hear, nor intervene.

He goes unconscious from the bleeding within ten minutes. His heart stops after thirty. 

When Ranboo’s consciousness flutters back into existence, his body feels revitalised, but it takes a few moments of blinking to realise he’s not lying on his back in the vent. Instead, he’s outside of it—almost as if it never happened. He ignores the oddness, but when he hears the awful sounds again, he swears he’s never crawled so fast in his life. 

The healed cuts from his revitalisation reopen from how swift he moves through the vent. All he can do is bite his lip before any whimpers leave his throat when he jumps down into the security office. 

As much as he wants to liken it to the light at the end of the tunnel, Ranboo knows it really isn’t, and instead, it’s the light at, maybe, his first quarter through the tunnel. When he reaches for the security badge in order to fasten another one to his shirt, he doesn’t expect his ears to prick from the blaring of an alarm. A disembodied voice screams about ‘lockdown’ and Ranboo, in turn, screams for Freddy.

”Ranboo, don’t panic. It just means that nothing can get in or out,” Freddy reassures, even if that makes Ranboo shake more, “so it shouldn’t take me too long to turn off the alarms.”

”Al—alright,” he mumbles in reply, “I didn’t mean to, I swear, I just took the security badge—”

Freddy just shushes him, but he appreciates it. His mind—eternally at conflict, it seems—goes quiet too, and the silence is tranquil. It ends as soon as it begins, though, not when he can hear Monty and the taunting of that feminine animatronic taint his ears. 

He runs between the doors, conserving battery the best he can, not once having direct contact with either of the animatronics. Freddy breaks the silence after what feels like hours, and a sob may or may not bubble in his throat at the sound of his voice. 

“Done! Wasn’t so bad, was it, superstar?” Freddy says, and Ranboo feels a little better at the nickname. The cheesiness of the bear sure is growing (and rubbing off) on him.

He finally ends up at the Prize Counter, only to find the Fire Escape locked. So much for that being useful, Ranboo thinks, paling on the sound of…sniffing, in his direction. It’s most likely Roxy, since she looks like a wolf, and they do have good senses of smell. 

Though, it’s not as if that disconcerts him any less. If anything, it only increases his fear tenfold because here, Ranboo can’t do anything but play into the hands of the predator, or in this case, Roxy. His hand on the Fire Escape is long forgotten when she runs towards him, teeth bared and arms outstretched. By the time he blinks, his clothes are torn, and he’s bleeding. Everywhere.

(Nobody answers his pleas this time either, and Ranboo wonders if he really should be praying to Ender. He knows they won’t come—not to Death’s domain.)

He wakes up this time covered in dried blood, but alive, if barely. His breaths are laboured, and he wonders if Trixtin has forsaken him. Why would she make him suffer like this? He just wanted to see…see who? 

Faces flitter into his mind, all blurry, but Ranboo can’t give any of them a name. All except one, and that’s a piglike creature called Michael, apparently. He looks his age, but how does Ranboo know him? 

Who are the rest of these people?

His questions go unanswered for the time being as he focuses more on slipping past Roxy. Her ridiculing increases tenfold—perhaps fuelled by anger and frustration if her repeated voice lines about how “You are the best, you will find him first,” act as any indication for her trying to soothe herself.

Ranboo feels almost sorry for her, but he can’t, not when his death at her hands is still fresh in his mind. Ender, the blood still covers him, and his clothes are ruined, but he doubts there’ll be anywhere to get new things to wear in a place like this.

When he finally manages to slip past her into the elevator, he expects things to go as they should. They very much do not.

First, Map Bot—or, at least what he’s calling it—stops the doors from closing, and he wouldn’t be entirely unhappy about receiving a new map if there wasn’t a murderous Roxy roaming right outside. He whispers loudly for it to be quiet as Roxy’s acute hearing could no doubt identify it, but it’s not an animatronic who appears. 

No, no, quite the opposite.

Vanessa shoves Map Bot aside and Ranboo cries out for it, only for her to shine the light in his face. His eyes, more used to the relative darkness of the rest of the PizzaPlex by now, dilate rapidly, but they’re not quick enough. Instead, something slams down on his head—probably the advanced lantern she’s holding—and it goes black.

Chapter Text

Ranboo’s hair sticks to his forehead as his consciousness slowly returns to that of this world. He’s not even sure why he feels so warm, and as he peels his eyes open lazily, it’s to orange. 

Bright, bright orange that flickers and fans at not only the edges of his vision, but everywhere. The putrid smell of smoke enters his nostrils, and he scrambles to his feet, looking around him desperately for any exit.

He finds nothing, and pales, even in the face of the extreme heat surrounding him. It’s almost like he’s standing on the surface on the sun, but he doesn’t even know where here is.

Here is four walls, constricting and ready to swallow him whole. Either they’ll encroach on him entirely, or the flames licking at his sides will consume him first, using him as fuel to continue their onslaught. To where, he doesn’t know, and Ranboo curses himself for having such shitty memory—

He can feel every movement of his chest (in, out, in out) as it rises and falls, expands and deflates. From his last breath to the next, it becomes an increasingly hard effort to open his mouth and just breathe. As much as he wants to scratch the walls and try his very hardest to escape whatever prison this is, he can’t. Ranboo can’t do anything, and when is that new? 

With how tired his body is—maybe due to the fire sapping at his vitality, or just his increasing resignation to his fate—Ranboo crumples to the floor in a mess of limbs splotched in haphazard black and blue. Every second, he can feel the omnipresent warmth get closer and closer until eventually it overwhelms all his senses.

His eyes fill with orange, bright and stark as if looking at the sun, his mouth tastes of burning (if that’s down to the nausea lurking in his throat, or the smoke, he can’t tell) and all he can hear is the crackling of the hungry flames. By now, there’s no proximity between them and him anymore, causing the burning to extend from the surface of his skin to every cell of his body. His throat, ever so dry, can’t even force out a scream of horror, of pain, of utter compliance.

There’s nothing he can do, and as his eyes drift closed, Ranboo can feel familiar coldness pricking at the very core of his being. The hands of Death, maybe, pulling at his soul. He’s used to this. He’ll be fine, even if dying here means his permanent hell will be waiting for him— 

With a gasp, Ranboo’s eyes snap open, lungs expanding to take in hungry breaths. Oxygen—oh, why has he never appreciated it this much before—fills his body, starting from his chest to every organ. Even if his body protests at the very motion, he can’t help but endure the pain if it means he can breathe. As much as the awful aftertaste of smoke still lingers in his mouth, Ranboo knows the dream—or nightmare, he should say, because that was most certainly not something he would’ve normally imagined—isn’t real. 

Though, maybe dying to flames isn’t the thing he should be worrying about at that moment, not when his consciousness—as clouded as it is—realises what this place is. It’s not somewhere he recognises, no, but if he thought smoke smelled bad, this was infinitely worse. His nose wrinkles upon the realisation, and he scrambles to his feet, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. 

It’s blood. Despite him feeling it’s lingered in the air for a time far too long, nausea leaves an acidic aftertaste in his mouth as the pile of clothes he’s standing in makes more sense. It means others have been here before and have shared the same fate as him, maybe. Did Trixtin know this? Or was this world really its own, and not just made for limbo purposes? (Some part of him wonders who Trixtin or what limbo is, whilst the other curses his losing conflict between childish immaturity and adult memory.)

Ranboo shakes his head then, stepping out of the pile in the process. He briefly wonders who the victims were, various faces flickering into his mind from somewhere, but he can’t decipher a single one. None of them elicit a name, instead just the sinking feeling of whether or not he’s next. Whilst he can remember Vanessa knocking him out (and by Ender, his head still throbs), he doesn’t even know why she’s so intent on killing him.

He’s done nothing wrong, and if she really is the rabbit lady, some part of him wonders if she just finds joy in it. The thought feels familiar—as if he’s known someone like that before—but he doesn’t know—or can’t remember—why. Whatever it is, Ranboo feels disgusting, like the past events of this room have manifested as grime on his skin that he needs to scrub off with the most meticulous cleaning equipment possible. His eyes drift for a moment, maybe looking for any such item, but they just widen when a voice cuts right into his mind, straight into the fog. 

“You!” Vanessa says sharply through the screen, and wow, he’s never seen anything like that before as the image of her face flickers onto it. “Ranboo, and yes, I know what your name is, you’re going to stay right there.”

“What?!” He shouts, slamming into the wall behind him in his shock. He shakes his head profusely, even if Ranboo knows she can’t see him. If anything, she’d probably just mock him as if he were a child which he’s not. Physically he might be, but mentally he’s aware, all too aware of the life awaiting him in another world where he’s a father, a husband. Sure, it’s just a bit blurry (who cares if he can’t remember their names, or their faces?) right now, but he can’t stay here, not when he’ll die—

His breathing quickens as Vanessa continues to talk at him, probably scolding him like she was some fountain of knowledge. She might have the upper hand in this world, but did she know Death? Did she know Its name? Of course she wouldn’t, so Ranboo knows more, so much more than her. He’s better—even at this age—than her—

And then the image flickers. Ranboo’s eyes snap to it, and his face pales. It’s the rabbit lady, hand drawn in front of her face in a shushing motion. Silence lasts for a few moments, and he can feel his body tensing to prepare for raucous laughter that mocks him, or a threat that she can—will—act on. The motion she’s doing is a warning too, he realises. Either she’s telling him to be quiet and make this easy for her, or that nobody will know.

At that, Ranboo tries to back further into the corner he’s lodged himself in, but he can’t. There’s nowhere else he can go, and he wonders if anyone at home even remembers him. He remembers their warmth, their kindness—of which he returned, sometimes even tenfold—but did that extend to his death? 

Did anyone care to remember him? 

Did anyone bother to arrange a funeral?

Did anyone erect a grave to mourn him?

(Ranboo imagines rain pouring from grey clouds, dampening the black formalwear clothes of a group of people. They lower a body into a six foot deep hole, and when most go, two remain. One a child—barely on the cusp of five—and the other a man. He can’t see their faces, but he hears their cries, pleas to gods that won’t answer. Never would.)

How ironic, he thinks bitterly. Even in life, he would forget them sometimes. Maybe, that would be their way of getting back at him if they didn’t, and he finds it laughable that he’s doing the same thing he did in life in death. He really can’t outrun his flaws. 

The sound of the rabbit lady’s voice snaps him out of his stupor, though. It’s shrill and sharp, cutting through him like a knife. 

“Are you having fun yet?” is all she says, but the words are enough to make him swallow thickly. Something hangs in his throat—maybe a plea, maybe not—but no amount of swallowing makes it go away. He realises then he’s at the complete mercy of this lady, and his gut churns with cold dread. It spreads from there to the rest of his body, almost feeling the tensing of his muscles is self-induced paralysis from his fear. 

That thought alone is enough to scare him even further, but the fact he knows he can’t leave here does even more so. Ranboo is stuck, and the fact that this is where he will die makes his heart beat even faster. Adrenaline fills his veins, acting as his only defence mechanism against this rabbit lady that he knows is coming from the static filling his vision.

It makes him go all lightheaded and for a moment, he thinks that she does it intentionally to prevent his escape. Even then, he doesn’t know how she does it, especially to an extent that causes him physical pain. 

Ears pricking, Ranboo’s eyes dilate upon seeing a glint of something in the corner of his vision. He staggers away from the corner when he realises it’s the rabbit lady holding a knife and in his desperation, he begins to search the room frantically for anything that will aid in his escape. To his relief, there’s a gift box and so far, they’ve held important items like passes and security badges, so surely this will be the same, right? 

His stomach drops upon seeing what he finds. There’s a vent to his side, but it’s shut tight and no manner of kicking or punching seems to make it beckon. Rather, it remains steadfast and Ranboo curses the weakness of this body, looking back to the thing in his hands. It looks important, but with no prior knowledge of this world and its obviously more advanced technology than his own, he can’t come up with anything he can use it for. 

The static increases then, causing his vision to blur red and Ranboo almost falls back into the pile of clothes. She must be getting closer, he thinks as panic surges in him. The footsteps down the stairs seem to echo his thoughts and the fact there’s a time limit before he dies makes his hands even clammier. Somehow, by staring at the vent grate long enough, Ranboo realises that it’s locked in by four things on its corners that the object in his hand has a similar shaping to on its point. 

With no other option, his hands clench around the object and just as the rabbit lady shoves open the door, Ranboo takes off the grate, clambering through the vent quickly. He doesn’t bother to whip his head around again, instead focusing more on keeping his legs moving.

Eventually, he finds himself back in the main atrium and he lets out a breath he never knew he was holding. Knowing he can’t relax, though, Ranboo runs to the nearest elevator, door closing fully this time instead of something like the Map Bot preventing his escape. 

Sliding down the wall to the floor, Ranboo tries to calm himself down, even if the threat of the rabbit lady persists in his mind. First, he tries focusing on all his senses: his hands touching the cold metal beneath him, the burn of nausea in his mouth leaving behind a bitter aftertaste, hearing his shaky breaths…

But none of it works. Every time he’s brought back to the hideous red eyes of the rabbit and how they stare directly into him, even in his mind. Her voice echoes in his head, mocking and somehow, worse than all of the other animatronics combined. If something like her exists, maybe trusting them might not be as difficult as it seems, but he can’t— not when everything is still so fresh in his mind.

(The inky blackness of the Abyss swallowing him whole, forcing him healthy by making him feel the pain that killed him again, but tenfold. His screams remaining unheard no matter how loud or desperate he pleaded for it to stop, and he’s only experienced it a few times in this world. He wonders if it will get any worse, but knowing fate, Ranboo knows he’s most likely tempted it already.)

But maybe fate has other plans for him, because the warmth of a voice he recognises stirs him from his panic. Though he can’t see Freddy, the bear’s voice sounds from somewhere, causing him to look up. 

“Ran—Ranboo, if you hear this, come to Roxy’s Raceway on the third— third floor,” Freddy says, voice crackly and he pales. “I’ll be waiting for— for you behind a pile of boxes in the construction area. Come to Roxy’s Raceway—”

”Freddy!” Ranboo cries when the bear’s voice peters into nothingness as though a snuffed out flame. The glitches he heard concern him too, because his friend sounds damaged, and he doesn’t know why. Not knowing scares him, and all he can do is ponder internally whilst cheery music—something that would’ve comforted him an hour ago—plays. It’s truly insane how quick his opinion of this place can change.

Eventually, the elevator doors open and Ranboo, grasping onto the wall, stands up on shaky limbs. He swallows thickly upon seeing the amount of security animatronics shining their lights—similar to the one he was knocked unconscious with—in every direction, and some part of him just wants to give up. Four hours left, his mind reminds him. Can he do it? 

He’s not sure. 

After making it to the third floor and Roxy’s Raceway, Ranboo finds himself in a maze of construction equipment—or, that’s at least what he assumes because in his world, there’s no such thing. He swears he’s explored every little crevice in this place, unturned every single nook and cranny, but there’s nothing. No pile of boxes, or even signs of a struggle to indicate Freddy ended up elsewhere. Just nothing. 

There’s a weight in his chest and it makes it even more difficult to breathe. The prevalent dust in the area only amplifies the issue and Ranboo fears that if he lingers here anymore, he might just suffocate. Luckily, upon turning the next corner, he finally finds what he’s been looking for. The pile of boxes almost look innocent as he clambers up them, and he almost wants to vent his frustrations to Freddy for placing himself in such an awkward place, but he stops upon actually seeing his friend. 

As Ranboo steps closer, the bear seems to twitch even more. He’s lying there awkwardly and if he were alive, Ranboo imagines his chest would be rising and falling quickly, but laboriously—petering right on the edge of Death. Some part of him knows that if Freddy were to die—or whatever the equivalent was for animatronics—he wouldn’t come back like Ranboo does. His would be final, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. 

“You—you’re here,” the bear manages weakly, and guilt hangs heavy in his chest, because if Freddy didn’t decide to help him in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He’d still be fine, working completely well, and it’s all his fault—

“Ranboo, your heartbeat and breathing are awfully quick…are you alright?” Freddy notices, of course he does, but Ranboo doesn’t deserve his help. He knows that they’ve done this song and dance already, and Ranboo realised he could accept the help. This time, though, it’s his fault that Freddy is like this. It’s only fair that he feels like this, right?

”I—of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” Ranboo replies hastily, trying to deflect his concern. “I’m—I think we should be more concerned with helping you.”

Freddy eyes him warily, but decides to comply. “I need to get to Parts and Service, but the only way I know of is through the main stage. So, you’ll need to get a backstage pass first.”

Ranboo nods along, but the words become background noise as he focuses more on the unfurling and furling of his hand into a fist. The constant motion provides him some solace as your fault rings in his brain. When Freddy points to the room behind him, Ranboo assumes it’s where to go.

He feels like someone else controls his actions as he mechanically searches the room for the typical pass, eventually finding it on a desk, not wrapped up this time. Ranboo just focuses on his breathing, his hands moving, rather than anything else. 

Then, he hears alarms blaring and a surge of panic rushes through him. He’s in another security office, and once again trapped. On the timer reads five minutes, but Ranboo doesn’t know if he’s even going to last that long with how easily he seems to find himself elsewhere mentally. 

“Ran—Ranboo, whatever you did just let me communicate with you again,” Freddy’s voice sounds from somewhere, and he looks around frantically for him. He finds his friend on the screen, looking even worse for wear and his heart pangs. This time, he listens carefully to the bear’s instructions and as the timer begins to count down, he feels well prepared for once. 

Despite Roxy and Monty’s incessant punching of the doors, a good electric shock is enough to deter them (and if some part of him wonders if it causes them pain, he ignores it.) The routine is something he gets used to, but then he hears the awful voice of the rabbit lady again. Freddy cries something in return, maybe a “I can’t hold her off!” but Ranboo doesn’t register it. 

Her sickly sweetness makes him want to vomit, but fortunately, he doesn’t have to cope with it alone for long. From beneath him, Ranboo feels the floor part and for a moment, he wonders if he’s dying—at least until he sees who it is.

“Freddy, you’re here, you’re here—” Ranboo cries into the bear’s chest, hoping the tears pricking at the edges of his eyes won’t make him short circuit. The bear just rumbles like he did before with Chica, but this time, it’s warm and makes Ranboo feel safe. Eventually, he lets go—the adult part of him glad—and he looks up to Freddy expectantly. 

The bear begins to move, and Ranboo follows easily. Here, he doesn’t have to constantly be on alert and it makes his tense muscles relax just a little. His heartbeat returns to a more normal rate too, albeit gradually, but the thing he wants more is that physical security. That’s something he can find only in Freddy’s chest cavity, he knows. 

“Freddy, could I—”

”Ranboo, if you want me to carry you, I’m afraid I can’t right now— I’m in no condition to,” the bear cuts him off, but the guilt rears its ugly head again. Freddy knew what he wanted, of course he did, but the rejection, no matter how softly worded, hurt nevertheless. It’s his fault, so why is he so upset? He has no right— 

After a few minutes of being lost in his head, the two of them eventually make it to the main stage. Freddy points out the sound desk that he needs to go to, but Ranboo once again feels like he’s not in control. Something else moves his limbs, and it’s not him. 

When some music begins to play after he places the sound disk in the desk, awfully lighthearted given his situation, Ranboo jolts backwards at the noise. Something about it disconcerts him terribly, and there’s nothing in his head but himself to make him run back in the direction of the stage. His burst of energy probably attracts the roaming animatronics, but he doesn’t notice, not when his vision goes tunnelled, focused solely on the main stage. 

Clambering up the stairs towards it, Ranboo slams the button to go downwards, just noticing Monty’s figure before receding into darkness. His face pales then when he hears a familiar laugh. 

Shit, he thinks, heart racing, it’s that Moon animatronic. Looking to Freddy, the bear must share a similar expression to his own in that it’s the animatronic equivalent of a grimace. The bear crouches down to meet his eyes, and he places a paw on his shoulder.

“Ranboo, when the elevator gets to the bottom, I want you to run, okay? Get to the nearest recharge station,” Freddy says, averting his eyes. By the way he’s being so vague, Ranboo knows he’s hiding something, but what? He deserves to know information that might endanger them both. 

“Why?” Ranboo presses, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder. “I mean, you’re coming with me too, right?”

The bear doesn’t reply. 

Instead, as soon as the elevator reaches the floor, Freddy pushes Ranboo away from him and towards the recharging station. Moon is right there, laughing at him, and his instinctual fear of the animatronic makes any residual frustration ebb into nothingness. Even as he hears metal clang to the floor, Ranboo doesn’t look back. 

He wishes he did. 

As the door of the recharging station slams shut, Ranboo’s curiosity overtakes him for a moment and even though he’s not tall enough to see out of the window by himself, he climbs up the walls nevertheless. Moon waves at him through the glass—knowing where he is, apparently—their red eyes gleaming. It takes him a moment to realise what they’re dragging away. 

“No! Stop!” Ranboo cries, barely managing to keep his clammy hands plastered onto the edges of the window. Despite his best efforts, he falls backwards, hitting his head again. At this rate, Ranboo wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up with brain damage with the way he’s going. Still, the fact that Moon was roaming around not at the end of the hour like they were meant to confused him. A lot of things in this place seem to do that, he thinks whilst frowning.

The lights flicker on again, and Ranboo decides that he needs to find another way into Parts and Services. Lips set in a firm line, he follows the winding hallways until he reaches one with something different. 

At first, the distinctively metal figures stand still, but upon turning away, they move. Ranboo almost thinks it’s like a game for them, but he doesn’t want to risk their anger, so he plays along. Looking at them, they definitely different to the other machines he’s seen so far. In fact, Ranboo wonders if that’s what they look like on the inside. That makes something cold twist in his gut, and he decides that he likes them better as they are. (These machines lack both the awareness and the sentience the others have, yet somehow they can develop childish tendencies to make up games and play them. Ranboo briefly wonders how.) 

Any infatuation he had with them is soon forgotten, though, when Ranboo finds himself in front of a vent. The fact he’d died in one already made him hesitate, but the thought of that spider like animatronic returning made him sick to his stomach.

Though, knowing that Freddy is probably very damaged somewhere, Ranboo clambers inside. With every inch forwards, he can feel the scuttling of the animatronic behind him vibrating the walls of the vent. He almost thinks it’s going to jump down on his face—akin to the last time—but before he knows it, he’s jumping out the other end. 

Momentarily, Ranboo allows himself to relax, stretching his legs. He wouldn’t be surprised if those animatronic husks weren’t as childish as he thought them to be— everything in this place seemed to twist innocence like that. By Ender, it even happened to him, but  the inverse as he was forcibly contorted into a child from an adult. Yet, with each hallway he continues down, Ranboo finds himself with more and more questions about them. 

On the walls are depictions of them together with Builders, smiling and laughing. As much as Ranboo wants to trust those images, he knows he can’t. 

Especially when he finds himself in the security office. 

The room itself is surprisingly childlike too, filled with toys, or, at least that’s what he thinks. There’s a group of them in here, all bundled together. Maybe they were playing, he thinks as he grabs the security badge. Him turning his back to them is enough for them to take advantage. 

Unexpectedly, a cold hand wraps around Ranboo’s throat, matching the handprint already there. The owner of the hand steadily increases the power of its grip until he’s clawing desperately, begging for them to stop. His pleas fall on deaf ears. 

A crack, and then he slumps to the floor.

When he wakes up again, his whole body throbs. This time, he’s on the floor where he died and the animatronic remains in the position that killed him. Bitterness fills his mouth, and despite his instincts screaming at him to stop and look, he runs. He runs until he’s no longer in those wretched tunnels and instead stumbles into another hallway. 

Although there’s been so many already, Ranboo’s eyes light up when he hears Freddy’s voice. This must be Parts and Services, he thinks, smiling, only for it to be wiped off his face when another voice joins his. 

Vanessa. 

“I’m glad Moon brought you here,” Vanessa grins at him, but not kindly. There’s something manic in her eyes, but Freddy can’t see that. He’s too used to taking things at face value, even if he’s been taught otherwise numerous times already. 

“I’m glad you repaired me too!” Freddy chirps, if only to make her less…defensive, “Now, if you’d just put my head back on…”

“No!” She snaps. Freddy wonders why she’s acting so strange, but it’s what she says next that tears him from his stupor. 

“No, I’ll find Ranboo myself,” Vanessa eyes him, as if she knows what he’s done (traitor, the back of his system whispers). “And do you want to know how I know his name?”

Freddy can’t even cut in a reply before she’s continuing. “His Fazwatch kept repeating it, in your voice no less!”

”’Ranboo, are you there, Ranboo?’” she mocks, and then her eyes darken. “If I find you’re involved with this, you’re scrap. Monty can run the shows.”

As she stalks off, brows drawn together in anger, all Freddy can do is wait. The threat hangs particularly cold in the air, because Freddy knows what it means. If it happened to Bonnie, it can happen to you, his system hisses, reminding him. There’s a reason there’s no rabbit at the PizzaPlex anymore, and how funny would it be if the perpetrator replaced both him and Bonnie? 

Not very laughable at all, he thinks, and he hates waiting. There’s nothing else he can do, and Freddy wonders if that’s all Bonnie does whilst rotting somewhere. Wait until he rusts to the point of shutting off permanently, or someone decides he can be useful for spare parts. Even though Freddy is not meant to feel such things, he grieves for the loss of his friend. 

He doesn’t know how, or why, but he does. At least, it’s similar to how the humans who construct him experience it from what he’s seen by accessing his servers. Right now, he’s in denial, or some form of it. There’s a certain ugliness to him that only rears his head when interacting with Monty, but nobody notices. 

Nobody notices the bowling ball in his room either. And if they do, none of the cleaners take it away. Somehow, management knows, and Freddy doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to feel about a lot, really, and he thinks it confusing. 

There’s not much else you can do but ponder when you’re a bot like him, anyway. Some part of him is glad for the malfunction, because even if the capacity to grieve wasn’t written into his programming, he thinks that the capacity to act…parental around a child certainly wasn’t either. And Freddy knows he does, because the way he treats Ranboo is drawn from things he’s learnt about fathers through his access to the cloud. 

It seems to work, even if the boy was awfully stubborn about accepting his help sometimes. Still is, even after their conversation earlier. He’s glad for the malfunction, but right now, he’s sick of waiting, and wondering if Bonnie will come back. (He won’t.)

Speak of the devil. 

The boy stumbles inside Parts and Service, face pale, and as much as Freddy wants to rush to his aid, he can’t— at least not whilst he’s restrained and without his head. Ranboo eyes him warily, and his brows furrow. 

“What…what is this?” He asks, and Freddy can tell he’s infatuated. Sometimes, he’s surprised at the boy’s questions, especially about the animatronics, or even basic things. He would ask why, but there’s never been a moment to allow for him to breach such a topic. Either way, he finds it quite…endearing, for lack of a better word, so he answers in kind.

”It’s where we go to get repaired!” Freddy replies. “I…well, already have been, but I still need my head put back on. Would you mind helping me, Ranboo?”

The boy hesitates for a moment, but he nods. He looks oddly at the computer, but pressing random some buttons seems to work well enough if the protocols activating were any indication. 

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t confused. 

Ranboo’s brows draw together as he stares at the bear. The security protocol rambles on above him, but it’s drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Something tells him standing here doing nothing won’t help—and in fact might make him even more panicked—but he can’t bring himself to move.

Some childish part of himself especially transfixes on the bear’s nose. Momentarily, he wonders if pressing on it would elicit some sort of squeaking noise that might make him smile, but once he’s  on the testing stage, he’s long past that thought.

One thing that does linger is the fact he’s not cut out for this. Ranboo’s hands shake as he tries to watch the pattern intently. Every little twitch of the bear makes his heart beat faster, because apparently he’s “not himself”, whatever that means. Something about it makes him terrified, nevertheless, so he just watches, and waits. 

Red, blue, yellow, green. Easy stuff—or, at least it would’ve been for someone who wasn’t a notorious amnesiac.

Red, blue, green— 

Ranboo stumbles backwards as Freddy springs into action, clawing at him, red ribbons peeling from his skin. Turns out those nails were sharp, just as he thought. The shock alone makes his heart pound faster than it should ever reach, and then…

Then it goes black, and a betrayal so thick hangs in his mind that he can’t quite shake himself from it. 

You can’t trust him. 

Everything in this place wants to kill you. 

You are alone.

When he wakes up, he’s outside the protective cylinder. This time, the Abyss has sent him back to before he tried the reassembling. Briefly, he wonders why it’s acting so randomly in whether or not he’s back beforehand, or just in the same spot but healed. Either way, Ranboo doesn’t even know if he wants to try again. He could survive this place alone, right? At least then, he couldn’t betray himself. 

He mechanically goes through the motions of reassembling Freddy, there but not there, and this time, he gets it right. Each movement is calculated, unwilling (scared) to let things going wrong again, so of course, he pays full attention to the sequence this time, not letting his ill memory take over him. Though, no happiness rises in him upon seeing his…the animatronic up and moving again, talking about Fazcams and Fazer Blasters. They interest him, but not enough. 

Maybe Freddy notices his disinterest, maybe he doesn’t, but Ranboo doesn’t care. It’s his fault, his mind hisses, you’re better off alone. Some part of him entirely agrees—and maybe it’s that cynical adult part—but not the majority. The majority still trusts Freddy (even though, for some reason, something born of forgotten familiarity tells him that will end badly for him).

Something does intrigue him, though. Three diagrams cover the wall, seemingly looking like crude replications of Monty, Chica and Roxy. Squinting at them, he realises that this must be their inner workings, or rather, the upgrades they’ve received. Roxy has new eyes, Chica has a new beak, and Monty has new claws…for what reason, he doesn’t know, but he decides that telling Freddy—if tentatively—is probably the better course of action. 

“Freddy?” Ranboo manages, hands pressed close to his sides, maybe to make him smaller. “Do you see these? We could—we could upgrade you, or something.”

(Internally, the thought of that terrifies him. Should Freddy decide to “not be himself” again, Ranboo can only wonder how much pain he’d be able to inflict upon him. And he’s starting to hate the Abyss, even in spite of what it does and has done for him.)

”But aren’t these parts of my friends? There must be some other way, because I’d rather not hurt them,” Freddy replies, shaking his head at the diagrams. Ranboo frowns then, because who was he to say that when they’d been hunting him the whole night like he was their prey? It wasn’t fair. 

“They deserve it,” he mumbles aloud, maybe intentional, maybe not. “They’ve hurt me, so they deserve it!”

It’s happened to him all along. He’s always been the one hurt, never the one to hurt others. And sometimes, when one’s pushed to their limits like limbo has done to him, they want to lash out. The fact he’s being told no is unfair. He’s not a child, he can do it himself. 

“I—Ranboo, please understand that it’s not within our programming to hurt a guest. There’s something wrong with them, and I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Freddy explains, but Ranboo can’t—won’t—listen. He doesn’t care if it’s out of their control, they still hurt him, and they deserve what he’s going to do to them. 

And maybe it’s his childlike brain that fuels those thoughts, because adult Ranboo is—was, because he doesn’t exist anymore, not in this state—levelheaded. This Ranboo is not, and even then, the battle in his head between immaturity and maturity, remembering and forgetting and fighting back and listening is still in stalemate. Some part of him already knows what will win, at least if he doesn’t escape this place within the night.

Nevertheless, a tense atmosphere shifts between the two with the only thing to fill it being an impenetrable silence. Maybe one of them wants to say something (“I’m sorry,” Ranboo might say, but he won’t. Not now.), or maybe they don’t. 

When they step inside the elevator leading to Rockstar Row, only the music fills the silence, but even then, it does nothing to ease the tension. Ranboo ignores any of Freddy’s efforts to converse, if only to spite him, and by Ender does he feel like a child whilst doing so. For once, no thoughts appear to criticise him, only silence at least, quiet agreement at worst. He turns away from the animatronic when the doors open, stepping out of the elevator and not looking back.

He doesn’t feel the hand reaching out for him, nor Freddy staring dejectedly on his retreating figure. It wouldn’t be the first time someone left him, and it wouldn’t be the last. If only he tried harder.

Chapter Text

As Ranboo recedes into the long hallway of Rockstar Row, Freddy too turns away from him. Though, it’s not frustration, or spite from the abruptness that prevents him from rushing up to Ranboo, stopping him in his tracks with a warm hand on his shoulder and softly asking what was wrong unlike what he might usually do. Instead, it’s the fact his system—so very, very used to being left alone in this huge PizzaPlex—just resigns itself to never being able to fix what he didn’t know was broken.

All he can do is look forlornly in the direction the boy might’ve went, but even that ends when he can’t see him anymore. If he were any other animatronic, he might not have waited for as long as he did, because they didn’t blindly believe like he did. Freddy was adaptable, but he was prone to becoming victim to the same situations again and again. Maybe it’s just a flaw inherent to his system, something out of his control, but to him, that just makes things even worse. Because as adaptable as he might be, it was obviously not enough if he continued to retain his naïveté for this long.

Sometimes, Freddy wishes he wasn’t created. He would say born, but he is not a human. This body he’s found himself in is metal, and to everyone else in this world who is made of flesh, he will always be different, no matter his personality or how he presents himself. The workers here always tell him things similar, even when he tried his absolute best to be the perfect face of the PizzaPlex. 

“I miss the old Freddy’s,” he remembers a worker saying one night to themself whilst doing his manual repairs. Prior to that, they’d scrutinised him, taking in every design and colour on his body to unpick him mentally until he was nothing but servos and circuits. It’s something he’s heard a million times before—why isn’t he like his predecessors? Why isn’t he perfect? 

Management must know he tries. They must or else Freddy would’ve been scrapped for being so bad at his only role by now, he thinks (hopes). But Freddy hates sentience. Although having a malleable system that can change on a whim, it’s still not a human brain. It soaks up insecurities more so than positive traits, so Freddy wonders that if he were human, he might’ve been able to be perfect. He might’ve been able to stop Ranboo walking away from safety to his death. He might’ve been able to stop his best friend being reduced to scraps.

The guilt still hangs deep in his system, even months after it happened. Ranboo leaving allows the memories to bubble to the surface, even as he tries to push them down. Because he’s done this all before, just with his best friend then instead of his charge now. He knows that the boy won’t be able to survive the PizzaPlex alone, what with his frequent questioning and little knowledge of the place. Freddy helps because he knows this place like the back of his paw, but that’s not the only thing that fuels his actions.

He just doesn’t want to lose anyone else he cares about, not when it can be easily prevented like this. If he can do something, he will, not out of obligation but out of need. He will not let anyone else die.

(Some part of his system murmurs that he only does it because Bonnie would. Bonnie was always great with kids, calling them superstar to comfort them. He was great with him too, and that nickname meant so much to those who heard it. Freddy can’t deny either the thought, or the fact he hopes that he could bring the same joy to Ranboo that Bonnie did to those kids. He wishes it worked, because maybe then he wouldn’t be able to imagine Bonnie calling him a failure so vividly.)

But despite everything, Freddy cannot—will not—bring himself to move. Something stops him, paralyses him in place, and whilst he’s felt fear before, it’s never been like this. This is him being scared not for himself, but for a kid that thinks going off by himself will solve anything after some unsaid argument Freddy wasn’t even aware of, or that acting strangely akin to an adult will make Freddy stop caring for him. 

Even though Freddy wants to move, his system refuses. His body does too, and he remains stationary in that grimy elevator. If he could breathe, he imagines that the air would be far too oppressing. Maybe, he would be choking despite there being nothing to choke on except his own anxieties. There’s nothing but himself stopping him from going to see if Ranboo’s okay. How pathetic is he to not be able to break through that?

As adaptable as he is, it’s apparently not enough. He will fail someone else again, making their death his fault, even if the cause was something else. Ultimately, if the boy dies, Freddy doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself. (He might just send himself to scrap. At least then he’ll be with Bonnie.)

Something blares in his system then. A bright red alarm dances across his vision, taunting him almost. It’s a message from Ranboo, a desperately worded thing that, if he had a heart, would make it pang.

Finally, he gets up, heavy frame pounding across the floor towards the signal location of Monty’s Golf if it means anything in saving his charge. 

Ranboo shoves his hands in his pockets, hanging his head so that all he sees is the bright designs of swirls and squiggles. It’s quite unlike anything he’s ever seen before, especially with how the dim neon lights serve as an extra facet for their fluorescence to truly shine. The only thing he can really compare to is the strange shapes he sees when he shuts his eyes too tight sometimes, hovering and dancing in the darkness…

He catches himself then, feeling that if he were to stray any further down that rabbit hole, he would probably fall prey to the distraction entirely until he suddenly ended up as mince meat in a metal mouth. Ranboo’s brows furrow, his mouth settling into a fine line as he blames the behaviour on this traitor of a brain and body.

He won’t call them his brain or body, because they aren’t. This isn’t him, and even if he’s had reassurance from that bear about it already, he won’t—can’t, because the words ring in his head, but they don’t register, not when the source is someone who betrayed him, who hurt him, who killed him—listen.

Whilst the wounds from his other deaths might sting, Ranboo’s mind lingers only on Freddy’s for the pain, the fear, the betrayal. The physical wounds might be gone, reduced to nothingness by being sent back to where he started, but mentally, they remain. Where the cuts might’ve tarred his skin now had he survived, those parts of him throb in phantom pain. All he can do is grit his teeth and look up again, even if the cuts never stop hurting, vaguely registering as background throbbing to his overwhelmed brain. 

From what Ranboo remembers of their last conversation, if he wants something to defend himself with against the animatronics, a Fazcam and a Fazerblaster will apparently help. Now, if he were listening, he might’ve not been entirely lost. Instead, all he does is stare blankly at the walls of Rockstar Row, a sitting duck should any animatronic notice his presence. Of course, he’s all too aware of this, because his heart pounds and hair sticks to his forehead, but what is he to do?

He doesn’t know anything about this place, or what he should do. As much as he wishes, he can’t go back and listen to that conversation again. He can’t wipe the memories of Freddy killing him from his mind either. There’s nothing he can do. Maybe you should just go back, a quiet part of him thinks, but he shakes his head, stomping his foot loudly in some physical way of ridding himself of the thought. 

Unless he has to, Ranboo will not go back to that bear. He’s an adult, he can do things alone, and even if something in him pleads for him to listen to his thoughts, he doesn’t. Instead, he eyes the rooms of the animatronics and maybe it’s to sate his own morbid curiosity, maybe it’s to find clues, but it’s better than nothing, he reasons. 

Even if Ranboo denies it, he would be lying if he said he didn’t go to Freddy’s room first. There was some small part of him that still thought the bear was safe, comfortable, warm…but of course, upon denying the thoughts, there was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Yet, something compelled him to just sit in the room for a moment. He plonked himself down in the chair and wow, did he look awful. Bruises, cuts, wounds: you name it, Ranboo had it splotched in black, blue or red somewhere on his body. His clothes were even worse than before, and even if he can feel a chill, it’s nothing worse than in the Arctic with…

With someone. Or two people, maybe three. He couldn’t remember their names, only that they were something akin to friends. Even if his memories faded, Ranboo retained the feelings of them. It was maybe one of the only things he appreciated about his memory loss in another world, but here, he feels nothing. All he knows is that he was friends with them, nothing more, nothing less. 

His stomach sinks at the conclusion, and he really needs to get out of here.

Removing himself from the chair, Ranboo grunts upon jumping down to the floor. He gives his reflection a final glance before moving to leave the room, at least until something else catches his eye. Whilst he doesn’t know its name, Ranboo figures it’s a ball, probably for some sport. It’s coloured like the room owner himself, and when he picks it up, he nearly doubles over at the sheer weight of the thing. What really confuses him is why it’s even there, especially if Freddy was meant to be a singing animatronic rather than one that played games. 

That’s not important, he reminds himself, scowling. He really needs to stop getting distracted. As he checks the rest of the rooms he can access, Ranboo finds nothing, or that’s at least what he thinks until he sees that prized gift box in Chica’s room. Running up to it, he unwinds it hastily, revealing a pass. Given that he remembers something vaguely about parties, Ranboo decides to try trial and error instead. 

Though, before he leaves, something similar to the ball he found in Freddy’s room catches his eye. It seems like a common theme where the balls mimic the colours of the animatronic they belong to, but all Ranboo wants to know is why.

None of these animatronics—or, at least from what he knows—are meant to play games with kids, let alone ones that require such strength to play, so who gave them these things? Some part of him wonders if it was a staff member, but it just feels wrong. Though, once again noticing he’s falling into a stupor, Ranboo slaps himself on the cheeks, bringing him back to reality. 

His cheeks sting, but the reality of the situation stings even more so. He needs to find where he’s meant to go, anyway.

Maybe it takes too long, maybe it doesn’t, but he eventually finds somewhere that will take his pass. The animatronic stationed outside is one of the barely intelligent STAFF bots, but the tension in his muscles eases just a little upon the thing doing a little dance when checking over his ticket. It excitably leads him inside, before disappearing. Going wide-eyed for a moment at its apparent teleportation, Ranboo’s eyes go as wide as saucers upon truly taking in the room. 

He feels unbelievably out of place in its vastness as he blindly explores, narrowly avoiding the stray lights of the security bots and the omniscient glare of animatronics. If there’s anything that Ranboo avoids in there, though, is the water. Sure, it might be residual instinct from him being an Enderman, but upon standing too close to the edge, a creature with snapping jaws not unlike Monty’s leapt at him. Even if the thing jumping at him wasn’t made from flesh, rather a material he couldn’t quite describe, it didn’t make his fear, nor the graze on his leg from it any less real.

After many twists and turns through the winding halls of Monty’s Golf, Ranboo eventually finds something useful. What he stumbles on is another security office. (And by Ender if he isn’t getting sick of how high security this place is, perhaps even outclassing the prison that kept him locked away in another world.)

Inside he finds another security badge, alongside another pass to a place called Mazercise. There’s some camera looking thing too which Ranboo assumes is the Fazcam he’s meant to be looking for. Apparently, if he aims it at an animatronic, it’ll stun them for a moment or three. Maybe this’ll help me die less, he thinks bleakly, frowning. When did he get so morbid? (When you betrayed them. When you gave in to him. When you condemned yourself to Death.)

A bit less lost this time, Ranboo navigates the PizzaPlex relatively easily to find Mazercise. The room awaiting him is nowhere close to what he expected, what with him barely understanding what any of the apparent exercise equipment did, or the fact that Chica’s voice was the one to greet him. Though, to his luck, she doesn’t actually appear. None of them do in fact, allowing Ranboo to find what he’s looking for without fearing for his life. 

Thus, he takes things rather slow, if only to prolong the inevitable. He learns from a letter shoved into some bag he finds that the vent in Mazercise apparently leads to catwalks above Monty’s Golf that the alligator apparently likes to hang around at whilst slacking off. But that vent is inaccessible without the controls, but those lie in the Daycare. 

Ranboo pales, feeling much too out of his depth at that moment. Maybe he’ll drown, waves crashing over him, eclipsing his every breath with salty water that fills his lungs. They’ll corrode, killing him from the inside out, but his thoughts, his memories, they’ll get washed away too as if some minor inconvenience that can be simply forgotten about. (You already have been.)

His hands curl into fists then, clenching. He can’t listen to the thoughts. Sure, he might already be half dead without Freddy, but he’s survived this far without his help, so he can do it for a while longer. (Or, at least that’s what he hopes. He knows that thought is based purely on his own fabrications to himself.)

So, he stops listening. Ranboo becomes mechanical in his movements, letting that something else move the body for him. He knows it’s not a malicious force that takes over his limbs, moves his legs, rather the opposite. It looks after him, taking over only when he can’t do it anymore, and it’s a blessing that he does not take for granted. 

For once, even if he retreats into the depths of his mind, it’s silent. Nothing barrages him with negativity, and he relishes in the reprieve it gives him. Nobody else can offer him anything quite like what he gives him himself. Maybe, he should employ that thinking if he gets back home. (Wherever that is, right? I thought they were your family, but you forget them so easily. You push them aside, and then you cry when people leave. Pathetic—)

Ranboo stifles a whimper, taking a deep breath that wracks the entirety of his body. He hates how limbo has made him so retrospective of himself. By Ender, even before he was an over thinker, but this? The constant criticism, the questioning of his every action, the unbreakable pessimistic cycle of negativity…

Maybe I can’t escape, he thinks, whimpers almost turning into laughs, maybe it’s all fruitless, maybe it’s a ruse from the start, maybe Trixtin set him up to fail—

“Stop!” Ranboo shouts to thin air, if only to himself. It’s not like anyone will listen anyway, a thought reminds him, the only thing in this place that will is some sorry piece of metal that wants to kill you. By Ender, it hits him hard. It’s like a killing blow, maybe due to an arrow, sending a spark of pain right through his body until all his nerves were flaring, screaming fire. No, that isn’t right. It’s not an arrow that kills him, it’s the rightful sword, snuffing him out all because he listened to their command in fear of…

In fear of what? Ranboo can’t remember, he never can, especially in a place like this. This hellhole he will never escape, and if he does, it will most likely be only the beginning of a series of limbos worse than the prior. It’s a thought he can’t bare. He tugs on his scalp, bloody nails sinking in, tearing hair from skin, skin that’s not his own, pale not black and white. This is not him. But it is, no matter how twisted and contorted, it’s still him, and this is his limbo. This is his hell. This is what he deserves. But he screams to whatever might listen that it’s not fair, it’s not fair, I don’t deserve this—

For Sun, seeing a kid after hours is a rare occurrence, but when they have, they’re usually caught within the hour in which they trample into the PizzaPlex, bringing their grime wherever they go and as the designated Daycare Attendant, they’re made to clean up their messes. 

What’s even rarer is a kid not being found within four hours, even with security being maximum, all bots being involved and the resident security guard herself. Sun doesn’t know how to feel about Vanessa, really—Moon sure has a lot to say when it comes to her, but in their shared mind, things get convoluted easily when so much information is streamed in such a tight space. From the little they do get, Moon is conflicted about her. Why, they don’t know, but they rarely press, not in something so trivial. 

What they’ve learnt in sharing a mind and body with someone is that what is Sun is Sun’s, whereas what is Moon is Moon’s. Their thoughts are separate, but they do overlap and coalesce, if only in a fractured state. Arguments are frequent between them, so Sun is glad that there’s requirements for Moon to be brought out. They don’t think having both of them in control at one time would be great at all. 

Though, when Sun wakes up bleary-eyed to hear weeping, they’re certainly surprised. When they creep up the Daycare slide, they see the boy they banned earlier. Now, whilst a part of them knows that he needs to go, a crying child overrides their initial programming modules. They move silently, system automatically connecting to the Fazwatch on his wrist. Never before have they seen such a high heart rate, nor such quick breathing. 

For a moment, Sun wonders if the boy is on the verge of cardiac arrest. But with how he’s all curled up, head in his hands and bloody, they can guess he’s probably either very scared…or having a panic attack. It’s something they deal with regularly, but never quite to this extent. Kids cry about the smallest things, but here, Sun knows something is very, very wrong. They don’t know why, but their system urges them to find out and help this suffering child. 

“…Are you okay?” Sun says tentatively, quietly. Something like that usually works, but the boy remains unresponsive. If anything, he shakes even more, and they fear that if his symptoms get any worse, he might die, and even if this kid is an intruder, Sun has some conscience. 

With their first tactic unsuccessful, Sun chooses to sit down away from the boy, but still close enough to make their presence known. They sit in silence, and eventually, the boy murmurs something. Sun—happy that he’s spoke, because that’s a good sign he’s at least aware—decides to shuffle a bit closer. 

“What was that?”

“I said, go away!” The boy shouts with a venom that Sun never thought possible. They flinch back, and the boy somehow retreats further into himself. Sun sees him shake his head, but even in the low light of the Daycare, they can see the state of him in full detail. They know that some of the damage probably comes from them, but they never realised the extent. If they could pale, they might’ve, at least in that moment. 

“What is with you animatronics and not learning to listen? I said leave me alone, so—so…please. Please,” the boy’s voice wavers, losing its barbed edge and instead becoming softer, quieter, “please just leave me be. I—I don’t deserve your help.” 

Wow, this kid has some issues, Sun thinks to themself, rather dryly at that, but for some reason, something within it makes sense. When they forced him out of the Daycare earlier, before even calling any of the animatronics, Freddy was there, waiting. They thought it odd at the time, sure, but this just cemented it. He was undoubtably working with this kid. To escape, probably, which Sun understood. For some reason, something within them compels them to help as well. Maybe it’s due to their programming, maybe it’s not, but they want to. 

They just don’t know if they can. Moon would be too much of a risk, especially if the boy was in this much of a state…but their system doesn’t care at that moment. All it wants to do is help, so it does.

”Tell me, was Freddy working with you?” Sun starts, and the boy shifts slightly. He raises his head, fingers parting to reveal eyes gazing directly at them. From his body language, he looks uncertain on whether or not they’re someone safe to tell. To convey that, they don’t know, because if Moon had hurt him before, he would definitely be distrusting. 

Surprisingly, he tells them anyway, or at least partially. “He—…he might’ve been. Not anymore.”

That, though, surprises them. Sun sees Freddy as loyal, never to abandon someone—let alone a child, which probably would’ve went against his programming itself—but with no bear around, they surmise it to be true. They feel that if they ask for specifics, the boy will most certainly become reclusive again. So, they avoid that prospect and instead stand up to offer the boy a hand.

”Well, whilst Freddy isn’t here, I could help you instead?” Sun tries, and surprisingly, the boy unfurls from the ball he placed himself in. A bloody hand meets their own—cold and warm at the same time, humans truly are strange—and hangs on for a moment too long. They allow it, if only this time. Sun needs to be careful anyway—they don’t imagine Moon would be too happy to see them helping this child. 

“I—I need to get to the theatre,” the boy says, and Sun moves quickly in its direction. The footsteps behind him—seemingly calculated, which they find odd for a child—match their pace and soon, they reach their destination. Sun doesn’t ask why, but when the boy asks for where the Mazercise controls are, he leads them there, if tentatively. They can hear the voices of their friends, calling out the boy’s name, they suppose. 

‘Ranboo’ sounds odd in their head, like something from a different world. They brush it off—their name is literally Sun, theirs is hardly any better. What they’re more concerned with is anyone finding them with is this kid, though. Thinking of a way to write it off is something they struggle with, at least in the moment. Pondering on it seems worthwhile, though, whilst the two unlikely allies traverse the halls back to Mazercise.

Ranboo’s eyes trail the ground. His shoes probably scuff against the floor too, but he doesn’t care for the noise anymore. He’s practically already condemned himself to the Abyss again when he allowed himself to grasp onto Sun’s hand in the first place. Sun is Moon and Moon is Sun, and Moon is the one who killed him first. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that he can’t quite rid himself of, because if he just stayed with Freddy, maybe he wouldn’t be risking everything. All because of his dumb, childish stubbornness. (It was rightful fear. Why can’t you understand that?)

At least they were helpful because here Ranboo is, finally able to access the vent. Or, at least he would be able to, if he wasn’t so damn stupid. He just can’t wrap his head around these buttons. What frustrates him is the fact that when he taps one, sometimes the maze changes, sometimes it doesn’t. And with every change, he can’t reset it to how he found it, so his mistakes are permanent. Once again, there’s nothing he can do and it’s his fault. 

Ranboo slumps against the wall opposite the monitor and the controls, staring blankly at them. He knows he’s teetering on the verge of a panic attack, but he can’t. Not again. It’s pathetic that he just can’t figure this out, in fact. What’s more is that he makes himself feel like shit physically because of it. Because his breaths are coming out in gasps, and there’s tears pricking at the edges of his eyes, but he won’t let them fall. He’s stronger than this. (He’s not.)

Then, something seems to flicker inside his brain. The arrows on the side weren’t just for show, of course they weren’t, rather they were there to show the direction. Ranboo sighs, slapping his hand against his forehead and if it stings, he doesn’t mention it to Sun when he stumbles out, looking dazed. Any concern in his direction is deflected, and instead, they just walk in silence towards the vent. 

Of course, Sun can’t follow him, but they wave him goodbye nevertheless. Ranboo’s glad too, because he knows it’s nearing the end of the hour from how twitchy they were getting. But, as soon as he enters the vent, he swears that the music beginning to assault his eardrums just snaps a chord within him. 

Where there might’ve been fear before was now the culmination of Ranboo’s pent up stress, frustration and anger from the past hour alone. This time, he stops moving, instead choosing to face the spider like animatronic head on. Of course, it doesn’t hesitate, or tilt its head in confusion—it wasn’t smart enough, anyway—when he does so. Maybe it thinks he’s an easy target, and Ranboo’s hands curl into fists that aim to squeeze.

He recognises this song and dance, mainly because he’s died to it before. It scuttles towards him, all over the vent walls to act as a means of confusing him, but he doesn’t fall for it. Ranboo knows it will try to fall from the vent ceiling to land on his face. And as it does, he grabs it mid air. The sharp edges of the thing and its musical instruments dig into his skin, but he bites his lip instead. With increasing fervour, Ranboo smiles, watching it struggle underneath his tightening grip. 

“How does it feel?” Ranboo’s question goes answered only by air as his hands quiver, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re not smart enough to even understand me, but I’m sure you can understand the pain. I’m sure you can understand the crushing of your inner workings under my grip…and I’m sure you understand how it feels to die.”

The thing goes limp and he chucks it away from him, jerking away. He didn’t like the music anyway, but…

Whatever that was, it felt too violent. It felt like taking another life, even if that life was barely on the cusp of awareness, let alone sentience. He shakes his head, not looking back at the pile of scrap and instruments he left. Maybe Chica would use it, he thinks briefly, she likes garbage. And somehow, reducing that scrap to garbage ebbs his negative emotions just slightly. 

When Ranboo jumps out the other end of the vent, the room is utter darkness. For a moment, he wonders if this is even the right area, but upon noticing the…machine in front of him, he decides that might be useful. Grasping it, he aims it like he might do to a bow towards bright lights on the opposite end of the room. Each shot hits them, and then the room itself bursts into colour. 

Alongside the appearance of a certain alligator. 

His body—tired, so very tired—screams at him to stop, but he doesn’t. He can’t lose now, not when he’s been independent successfully for so long. That would be giving up, and Ranboo doesn’t want to suffer under such weakness. (You already do.) 

His little legs betray him. He trips on something—an untied shoe lace, a wonky grate in the metal, whatever—and crashes to the floor in a mess of limbs. And Ranboo, in pure fear, weakly calls for Freddy on his Fazwatch. He knows he won’t come, and even if he did, he’d too late by then anyway. But his desperate mind obviously didn’t care. As Monty slams down beside him, shaking the metal platform, he can only grit his teeth in preparation for the pain. 

It comes, and when it does, Ranboo wishes he didn’t accept this offer of revival. He can’t even remember who he’s clinging onto life so desperately for. To him, he might as well already be dead.

And he is, because Monty’s foot alone crushes his lungs under its weight. He dies slowly, painfully, and Freddy clambers through the vent just to see him take his final breath. 

“No!” Freddy cries, causing Monty to snap his head towards him. For a moment, he backs away because the look in his eyes is murderous. He briefly wonders if this look is what Bonnie and Ranboo saw before they died, this merciless look from a predator, not a robot. This can’t go on, he thinks, and even if he’s usually one to stray away from violence, this is not one of those scenarios. Because Monty was the one who killed his best friend, and now he has killed his charge. 

Freddy would not stand for it.

”Freddy, what are you doing here?” Monty asks him matter-of-factly, as if it was some normal occurrence to be standing over a kid’s motionless, breathless body. The ones they were meant to entertain and protect, now reduced to only a corpse. He itches to just grab Ranboo and run, but anger coils deep in his servos, poising for the chance to sink its fangs into the perpetrator of his anger. 

“I…” Freddy thinks for a moment about whether or not to tell the truth, but anger fuels him to, “…Monty, you just killed my charge. You killed Bonnie too, my best friend!”

Suddenly, the violent look in the alligator’s eyes disappears. Instead, his body starts to shake, stepping backwards as Freddy comes closer. He pauses once he reaches Ranboo. Surely, now that he’s got the boy within his grasp, he could just run…but no. 

Maybe Ranboo was right. His other friends might not deserve any pain like this, but Monty…he just might. 

Ranboo’s body spasms for a moment as his soul rejoins it from the Abyss. This time, it aches so, so much. But, when his eyes snap open, he’s not back to where he started, no. Rather, Freddy stands above…Monty, the alligator’s claws in his paws. While he’s concerned about the fact it must’ve been Freddy who…killed him, Ranboo is more concerned about the fact the bear most likely thinks he’s dead himself. 

And, even if he still reels from dying at the hands of his…friend—which sounds right—Ranboo is more grateful for the fact the bear saved him. At least, in a sense, because he was already dead when he arrived, but he still came. He still cared, even if Ranboo was stupid and stubborn enough to leave him behind in that elevator. Then, Freddy turns back around, and his eyes widen upon meeting his own. 

“Ranboo!” He shouts, staggering backwards, almost into Monty’s body. “How are you alive?!”

How on Ender does he explain that? “Oh yeah, this is actually my limbo. You’re probably not real,” is something he could definitely say, isn’t it? A laugh bubbles in his throat, and Ranboo can’t meet the bear’s eyes. Not anymore. 

“It’s…it’s a long story,” he says finally, cold metal digging into his exposed skin. Freddy—as expressive as he can get—just gawks at him, almost as if urging him to elaborate as if it’ll dispel his disbelief. 

“You won’t believe me,” Ranboo laughs, but the motion makes his chest throb, a violent cough pushed from his throat wracking his frame. 

“But—but you died. Your heartbeat stopped, so how…?” Freddy murmurs, trying to make sense of it. It doesn’t make sense, Ranboo thinks, it never will. The bear will never understand, unless he goes through this himself. Which he won’t, and he’s glad. Nobody else should have to go through such shit that makes you remember and regret everything you’ve ever done. 

Ranboo tries, anyway. “This world…I—I’m not from it. I’m not even a kid either, I’m an adult in my world.” 

And when he says it aloud, it sounds ridiculous. Utterly ludicrous, and Ranboo just knows Freddy will chalk it up to childhood imagination, but somehow, he doesn’t feel entirely bad about getting it off his chest. The bear won’t actually listen, but…he considers it better than thin air listening to him.

”Tell me more,” is what the bear says instead, and Ranboo meets his gaze again. There’s something flickering there—what, he can’t guess, but it’s something.

”Well, in my world, we don’t have this technology. We have lanterns and torches, but not electrical ones…nothing like animatronics either,” Ranboo pauses for a moment, cheeks reddening. “Everything is powered by magic instead, and—and…you don’t believe me, do you?”

A laugh bubbles in his throat, loud and raucous. It sounds like the rabbit lady’s, and Ranboo doesn’t even shiver anymore. Freddy just stares at him, but he doesn’t speak. 

When he does, his voice is quieter than usual and lacking in warmth. “I…as much as I would like to say it’s just your imagination, yes, you are rather…odd. To know so little of this place, yet apparently seek refuge here, it confuses me.”

”It confuses me too. But…some part of me is glad I got to meet you. Even if…” Ranboo trails off. 

“Even if?”

”Never mind. I’ll…I’m sure we can talk about it later,” Ranboo deflects the question, looking away again. 

“I still don’t see how any of that would make you able to come back to life though,” the bear says again, and Ranboo scolds himself for forgetting the whole point of the conversation.

”It’s…complicated,” he settles on. “This place is— I don’t know how to describe it! It’s my limbo, and I feel each and every death again to heal. It hurts, but I have to come back. Why…”

His jaw slams shut then. He stands up, shaking his head. Ranboo doesn’t know why. That final death did it in for him, didn’t it? Or maybe it didn’t, and it’s just his last memories clinging on with all they have. He hopes that they can last, because if he loses the knowledge of his home world, Ranboo can only imagine what the amnesia might consume next. 

Then, arms wrap around him. They’re not unwelcome, but Ranboo immediately goes slack at the touch. He likes this—it’s the only good part of this entire thing, he’ll admit. But from here? He doesn’t know what they’ll do. 

They’ll certainly stick together instead of separating, he hopes. Whilst Sun was protective well enough, they were no Freddy, but he can’t fault them for that. They were help enough. 

But, one thing sticks in his mind. With Freddy asking him so many questions, he decides to ask one of his own. 

“Freddy, when I was in the rooms earlier…I—I saw these heavy balls,” Ranboo says weakly and by Ender if he doesn’t sound weird enough. “What were they for?”

Freddy’s grip around him tightens momentarily and for a second, Ranboo thinks he’s going to suffocate. As soon as he notices, Freddy moves away, almost tripping over Monty’s body again, wide-eyed. 

“Are—are you okay, bud?” Ranboo asks hesitantly, and Freddy nods. 

“Your question was just sudden, I suppose…” Freddy begins. “Those were gifts from my best friend to everyone in the band. At least before he—he…” 

Ranboo runs up to him and even if the bear knows the truth about what he really is, he doesn’t flinch away when he grabs his hand like a child. It’s not to comfort him, but the bear instead. If animatronics could cry, he could imagine that tears would be pricking on the edges of his eyes. Ranboo won’t push him, but Freddy nods at him again. 

“Bonnie was his name. He was great, but Monty here…” Freddy pauses, perhaps to compose himself, “…killed him. When I thought he killed you too, I guess my system just overloaded and acted on impulse. But, at least he can be put back together. Scrap metal and humans cannot.”

And with that, a silence falls between them as they make it back to the main atrium. They pass the spider animatronic he left behind, and for a moment, he wonders if Freddy will mention it. The bear never does—something he’s grateful for—but next, they need to go to Fazer Blast. 

At least with Freddy’s help, it might not take so long this time. (And some part of him might also settle on finding out more about this Bonnie animatronic.)

Chapter Text

Ranboo sighs. He’s really starting to hate how big this place is. As much as it’s a marvel to take in, the novelty certainly wears off when one, it’s his limbo, and two, a place where his grave really ought to be with the amount of times he’s died by now. Either down to his shitty memory, or the fact it’s that large a number, Ranboo can’t remember how many times, in fact. At first, he tried to keep a mental tally, but when you’re trying to avoid Death by killer animatronics, that’s one of the least likely things to persist on your mind.

But some part of him wishes that he did, because maybe now, he’d be able to guess the number of deaths it’d take for him to lose his memory completely. Because surely, there has to be a pattern to it, right? Ranboo hopes so, because with each passing minute, he swears he can feel information trickling from his mind, maybe like the constant ebb and flow of a stream. Except instead of water, it’s his memories being washed away into not even his long term memory. There’s no fog in his brain like before. This time, there’s nothing, and that concerns him.

He doesn’t want to lose those memories, and maybe that’s why Trixtin made this his limbo. Sure, the fact he’s received help from two unlikely sources so far confuses him—though some part of him wonders if that’s the luxury she was talking about—but the fact he can feel himself losing those memories and the feelings, the faces, the people he associates with them…

It’s essentially torture to try and remember what he can’t. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll fall back on what he does know, and what’s he learnt is that it’s pointless. Pointless to remember, pointless to try, pointless to rely on anyone but himself.

Sure, he’d died without Freddy watching over him, but he can’t help but feel like he’s got to reject the bear should he try coming to his rescue again. He doesn’t know why he feels so compelled to, and maybe it’s that adult part of his mind, begging for him to do what it wants before it too fades into nothingness like everything else he holds dear. It hangs heavy in his chest as he looks at the bear in front of him. 

Squinting, Ranboo takes in how damaged Freddy really is. He’s horribly scuffed and his colouring looks chipped and scratchy at best, rather than the bright vibrant it once was. The heaviness in his chest increases tenfold, and his lips contort into a frown. It’s not hard for him to guess where the feeling comes from, or what it even is. 

Of course, it’s guilt. Ranboo’s stomach sinks at how familiar it is, not just because of his actions here, but of those in another world too. Even if he can’t remember, the emotions linger—as dull and muted as they are—and his chest throbs. Freddy being so damaged isn’t his fault, so why is he so obligated in feeling guilty? 

A million thoughts and images flash into his mind then, too fast for him to clutch onto any and restore even the faintest bit of his memory. Instead, he stops in his tracks and clutches at his hair, pulling with as much effort as he can if it can make the stream of information stop. He wants to remember, but not like this. Never like this. 

Not when the images don’t even feel like his own. But they are, because every time, he’s there, witnessing the world through his own eyes. The actions don’t feel like his, but they are. He’s the one The realisation makes him sick to his stomach, and when did everything go so blurry? When did his head start spinning? Ranboo doesn’t know where on Ender the information came from, but he wants whatever did it to go back. Something like that can’t linger inside his brain, because if anyone were to find out…

That’s something the him in another world would care about, though, isn’t it? If he can’t remember those people, why should he care? There’s no point, just like the rest of this. Maybe, staying in limbo past this night would be better than whatever awaited him back there. From what little he remembers, it was hell. Guilt, betrayal, being treated as everyone as something to use… 

Even if there were others that didn’t use him for their own gain, they must’ve been a minority, or else his feelings would be more positive and less negative. So, he’s not sure if it’s really a world he can go back to. Here, he can at least pretend to be some child and gain the sympathy of others, or even have the protection of animatronics like Freddy and Sun.

They could kill him again, sure, but he’s always came back thus far. There would be no limit, unless Trixtin decided he wasn’t worthy of such luxury anymore. Of course, that won’t happen though. He’s going to keep coming back, no matter what. That’s as set in stone as the sun rising in the east every morning and setting in the west every night. Though, Ranboo doesn’t think Death would do such a thing to him. Otherwise, why else would she just give him the chance to be revived and then snuff out his hope so easily? It would make no sense.

Nothing in this place does, his mind hisses, and he might just pull on his hair a little harder. Hot tears might stream down his face, but why should he care? It’s pointless, pointless, pointless— 

“…Ranboo? Ranboo, can you hear me?” somebody says, and he blinks a few times, trying to figure out where he is. He’s on the main stage, being held by something warm, something familiar…

”Freddy!” Ranboo says, jerking out of the bear’s grasp. He didn’t know when he got here, or when he fell on the floor, but he doesn’t want to be vulnerable like that again. Too many times has that been taken advantage of in this place for it to be safe. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

He winces a little at how the sudden movement causes his body to erupt into pain, setting his nerves on fire. Even when he tries to pull his mind away, the dull throbbing persists. In order to avoid the bear prodding for any answers, Ranboo wordlessly slams his hand down on the button that leads them down to Parts and Service.

And that’s when the realisation sets in that he has to repair, or, in this case, upgrade Freddy again. His hands go all clammy and he might start to shake, but he has to do it. Or, does he? He could just sit and wait and wait and wait until he can’t any longer.

By then, the sun would’ve risen. Day would’ve broke, and Ranboo could simply just…leave, even if the prospect makes his skin crawl for reasons unbeknownst to him. A shiver runs up his spine, but he shakes his head, instead choosing to entertain the thought. 

He could stay in this world, this world that he can’t even tell will be real for anything but torturing him physically and mentally. Ranboo could still learn about this world, become well versed in it, and in no time, he would be no different to anyone else.

Sure, he might look and act a bit odd, but who doesn’t? If all else fails, he could just stay here and wait and wait and wait with Freddy and Sun. That sounds like something he could do. It’d be easy, because even if he might be escaping Death each night, he’d adapt over time. He’d adjust like anyone else would in a situation where life and death scenarios occur at every corner. 

He could do it. It makes more sense to stay in a world that he vaguely knows rather than one where he can’t remember anything. Both were less than ideal, but survivability was increased here, surely?

No, it’s not, something tells him, and his breath hitches. This is limbo, not home. But Freddy and Sun were so nice, nothing like the rest of them. And surely, he could make them nice and he could wait and wait and wait with them too. (With the ones who killed you. With the ones who crushed you with no remorse. With the ones who tore you apart.)

But then, why does he shake so much? Why do his breaths leave him in hideous gasps that wrack his entire frame? Why does his heart pound against his minuscule chest, begging for anything to let it escape?

Why, why, why. Nothing he asks will get answered, not by Death, not by Ender, not by anyone. His pleas will fall on deaf ears to anyone but himself. 

Ranboo can’t do this.

A hand on his shoulder snaps him back to reality and momentarily, Ranboo feels like he’s going to die. Sure, he already is, but this is like the realisation he can’t do anything about it. It’s as set in stone as the sun hanging in the sky everyday and the moon following it every night. A ragged breath escapes his throat, but it hurts. Ranboo hurts so, so much. Why can’t it just be easy?

Why can’t he just go home? 

He doesn’t even know where that is anymore. All he yearns for is the idea, the concept, the very thing that makes a house a home. It’s familiarity, comfort. He doesn’t think anything like that exists here, everything except Freddy.

But that’s impossible, because even if Ranboo does survive, the bear can’t follow him to a world where nothing comparable exists. It would be like him staying here, and neither could be permanent. At least, that’s what he tells himself if it means his brain could just shut up for once.

”Ranboo, are you listening?” He hears vaguely, but there’s something like cotton in his ears that makes it so very hard to hear. “You need to snap out of whatever this is, please, superstar. You can’t survive like this.”

And, even if that tiny, tiny part of adult him that remains complains at the nickname, it warms the rest of him. Finally, he can open his eyes fully, and not be pulled into a tide pool of memories and thoughts he can’t decipher, nor work through in his tired mind. He looks up at the bear, all bleary-eyed, and he can’t even form any words, despite how his mouth hangs open. 

So, he just blinks, and nods. For what, he doesn’t know, but it seems to appease the bear nevertheless. They settle back into that silence and albeit not oppressive, it’s not comfortable either. Ranboo knows something remains unsaid, maybe a question, maybe an answer, maybe an “I’m sorry,” from either of them. Whatever it is, it hangs in his throat and he swallows thickly, but nothing makes it go away. He wishes it would. 

Eventually, he’s back in front of that protective cylinder. As much as his stomach turns and his vision blurs, Ranboo knows he has to do this. Even if he stays, even if he leaves, attaching Monty’s claws to Freddy will make the bear a lot more formidable, and therefore better at protecting (killing) him.

The disembodied voice of the security protocols go unheard as for a moment, Ranboo hesitates. There’s a ringing in his ears that with every passing second seems to increase in volume. It makes him go lighthearted, but even pressing his hands to his ears does nothing. When can he do anything to help himself? 

Pathetic, his mind hisses, and his arms fall to his sides in defeat. Shaking his head, his vision clears when he uses the screen to activate the ‘Claws Upgrade’. That’s not to say he hesitates in stepping inside, but eventually he gathers the nerve to, even if something in him screams otherwise. When he does, he feels like he’s walking right into the maws of Death and no matter his struggling, he won’t be able to claw himself out of this one, not when he’s just some lonely child.

Ranboo’s mind numbs upon the first instructions from the disembodied voice, his ears pricking in order to allow him to listen more intently. He doesn’t hesitate in taking off the casing of the bear’s arms, not when some part of him knows he’s on a time limit, and maybe not just for this. 

Shit, he thinks, frown becoming a scowl, it’s that colour sequence again. He can’t become frustrated, nor allow the memories from that death to consume him whole. That’ll condemn him to Death even more so than he already has. But, it’s so, so much easier said than done.

He tries to watch, he really does. Wait, watch and listen is the technique he follows. And it works, for a time. He removes the bear’s paw with relative ease, but it’s trying to attach Monty’s claws that make him suffer. Tears blur his vision, and all Ranboo can do is curse this stupid body for being so emotional. It doesn’t come from him, of course it doesn’t.

Even though he was just as sensitive in another world, if not more so. He ignores the thought, because it’s probably just more lies. Maybe, he couldn’t even trust himself and if not himself, who? No one, probably. His hands might just shake a little more. 

Red, blue, green, yellow. It’s the final sequence, it should be easy, but it’s not. Not for him. Never for him. 

He’s hesitating. He’s going to die. Isn’t he? 

Just as he expects a shrill shriek to tear from his throat—maybe from the bear’s too, he doesn’t know—he inputs a sequence. Red, blue, green, yellow. The casing snaps shut, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to repeat it a second time, because he’s not entirely sure he could survive that much stress within such little time. If he could, his hair would probably start leaching more white, receding into the black. When he reaches up for his hair, his hand jerks away at how caked with dried blood it is. 

Sighing, either out of relief that it’s over, or exasperation, he doesn’t know, Ranboo jerks away when Freddy stands up suddenly. For a moment, Ranboo wonders if the bear’s snapped, and those arms that might’ve held him or placed a warm hand on his shoulder a few hours ago would instead be wrapped around his neck, just like that rabbit lady’s.

Even if Freddy does anything but, Ranboo’s mind latches onto the possibility. All he can imagine is him squirming and clawing at traitorous hands until he eventually falls limp, the rise and fall of his chest no longer being a constant, but a one-off.

Instinctively, he squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around himself in some vain effort to be somewhere else. He imagines that his arms aren’t his but someone else’s, anyone else’s if it means he’s away from here. Limbo, Death, the Abyss. All of it, including the feelings and realisations they’ve made him endure. For a brief moment, he wonders how hell could any worse than this. If this was the in between, then…

”Ranboo, are you okay? You look…ill,” Freddy looks at him, mechanical eyes all dilated, and he shakes. He’s probably like some leaf on an aimless breeze, or, maybe more like a boat drifting at sea. For miles, all he can see is deep, deep blue, and at first, he’s in awe.

But then, the reality sets in, the realisation that’s he’s very, very out of his depth because he doesn’t know anything about this sea. All he knows is that eventually, the water will turn against him and when storm clouds roll in, the tranquil scene is blown apart. With it, his rickety vessel overturns until he’s one with the sea, but he’s burning, drowning and suffocating all at the same time. Water washes away all he knows and with that knowledge, all he is.

His chest heaves, and maybe, that realisation shakes him to the very core more so than anything else. Who is he without his memories? He curses, to what, he doesn’t know, but something about it feels so familiar. Some part of him—maybe that him from another world, however small it is currently—has come to this conclusion before, but why? He doesn’t—and probably never will—know.

It’s not that type of comfortable familiarity, either. Instead, this is disconcerting like snapping fingers to wake him up from whatever cycle of thoughts he’s got himself in. But, finally, he replies, not just a snappy exclamation out of alarm.

”Freddy…” Ranboo starts quietly. He doesn’t know what to say. Well, he does, but revealing that the bear killed him at some point would no doubt place an even further wedge in their relationship. But, getting it off his chest might remove that weight too…

The bear just stares at him, but Ranboo averts his eyes, opening and closing his mouth like some beached fish. He’s so uncertain, but when isn’t he? Fists shaking, he finally settles on something.

”I—I’m not ill. I was just really…” he pauses again, but he doesn’t know why he’s so scared to show vulnerability—Freddy’s probably seen him at his worst already, “…scared. The thing is, I fixed you before, yeah? But, the first time I tried…I—you…”

”You killed me,” is all he says, but those three words seem almost world-ending in that moment. Everything stops, and his vision tunnels on Freddy alone. The bear goes stiff and his jaw goes slack. He jerks away from him too, but Ranboo doesn’t stop him. He knows how it feels, but for some reason, he can tell from his body language alone that he’s very, very shocked.

”Don’t—don’t worry about it, though. I know there’s something wrong with your programming—” he tries, but he gets cut off instead. 

“Ranboo, I’m so sorry,” Freddy says, voice somehow wavering. “I’m sorry for not believing you in the first place, but with how affected you are, it must be true.”

”It’s…” Ranboo hesitates, because he’s not exactly sure if he himself has gotten over it yet. No, that’s not right—he’s not over anything that’s happened in the past few hours. He would need to be some sort of god to heal all of that mental baggage so quickly.

But, with the bear’s sincerity in his apology, he feels like he can trust him, even just a little. There was no awkward laughing off of what he said, nor treatment of him like a child, so, to Ranboo, he feels like it’s okay. Okay to get better. Or, at least, forgive. The memories will no doubt linger, alongside the betrayal he felt, but for the rest of the night, he’s sure he can put that aside.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, and the bear just blinks at him, probably not expecting such an answer considering his obvious reluctance. And even though his mind and body don’t agree on much, they do agree on how lovely physical contact is. So, when arms wrap around him, there’s no complaint from anything, just welcome silence. He just hopes that his resolve lasts this time.

With that, the two of them end up back in Rockstar Row, though crying immediately assaults Ranboo’s ears, and his eyes go as wide as saucers. The source sounds feminine, but distinctively metallic nevertheless. Maybe Chica or Roxy, but he can’t tell.

“Who is that?” He mumbles, but he receives no answer. Instead, Freddy moves for him and not being in the chest cavity in a while makes him just a little motion sick at the fast paced movement. No amount of knocking makes the bear stop either.

Upon hearing crying, Freddy’s system perks up. There’s an indescribable guilt lying in his chest—right where the boy he killed sits—but his system automatically latches onto crying rather than remaining focused on his thoughts. It’s a quirk of being an animatronic that’s he come to dislike, because most of the time, it leaves him unable to think properly from acting on impulse. His system snaps him into action, but sometimes it’s into danger, even if it seems like something needs comforting. Right now, it’s a bit of both.

He knows Roxy to be confident, if arrogant at times, so to see her hunched over her desk and crying—or, at least some variation of it, for animatronics can’t produce tears, only produce sounds—surprises him. It does the same for her too, what with how her head whips to his direction. Her hands curl into fists and they begin to shake, just as she stalks up to him. But even if he wants to move, he can’t. His system still hears residual crying, so he remains stationary.

”Freddy!” She shouts and just when he thinks he’s going to a receive a blow to his frame, her raised arm falls back to her side. “What are you doing here? You should be looking for that kid, not…”

Roxy trails off, promptly falling backwards into her chair. Even if she seems like she’s stopped crying, Freddy doesn’t want to leave. He’s got a knack for telling when something’s wrong in others, even if he can’t say the same about how good he is at comforting others. His inability to stir Ranboo from his thoughts earlier was telling of that, and the guilt crashes back into him tenfold. 

His paws—or, claws, he should say, and for some reason, he’s not as concerned as he should be with the fact he stole them from Monty’s scrap—reach for the wall as support, feeling like he’s teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. He shakes his head, and Roxy stares at him. 

How could he forget her eyes?

She’s not even squinting at him either—she must’ve figured it out quickly, but then why would she not mention anything? Freddy thought Monty and her were good friends at some point, but everyone did get awfully touchy around him when Bonnie died…

“Roxy, I actually came in here because I heard you crying,” Freddy says apprehensively, careful with his word choice in case it just causes her to lash out instead. But, he gets no reaction. She just looks, and his brows furrow.

”Freddy, I appreciate that, but…what’s going on with your paws? Why are they green?”

The questions cause him stiffen, and Roxy’s far from dumb. She’ll figure it out quickly, and she’d probably be mad too. Who wouldn’t—he basically killed one of their band mates! Even if Monty killed Bonnie, Freddy doesn’t think it’s much of an excuse for his actions. That’s not to say he regrets it though. As much as he doesn’t want to hurt any of his friends, he feels like with actual claws now, he’ll be able to do a lot more than just hide Ranboo. And maybe then, his charge won’t have to die anymore either.

”I—…I got a new paint job?” He tries weakly, but Roxy just moves closer to him, perhaps to inspect it closer. Freddy shakes his head and instead turns to leave, but she grabs his arm. Who knew she was so strong, he thinks, frowning at her.

”If it’s something to do with Monty being missing, I…” she pauses, twitching a little, “…I won’t tell anyone. Just look for that kid for me. Promise?”

”Promise,” he replies hastily and he feels like she knows he’s been helping Ranboo this whole time. Why she’s not telling anyone, he doesn’t know, but he appreciates it nevertheless.

For machines, something tells Ranboo that the interaction between Freddy and Roxy, or even his earlier one with Chica, is far too fluid to be considered normal. They talk like him, apparently think like him, because if those insults directed at him by Roxy were any indication, they were born purely of her own insecurities which just so happen to hit home for him. 

That solidifies in his mind then that he doesn’t want to reduce anyone else in this place to scrap. Monty maybe, but the others? They’ve all shown something he can relate to, or they were kind to him. He can forgive them if they aren’t too reluctant in becoming allies, but knowing that they probably aren’t themselves makes him more patient.

What makes him less patient, though, is the fact that neither he nor Freddy can find a damn party pass to enter Fazer Blast. They’ve scoured Rockstar Row at least five times, but nothing. Apparently, since the Daycare is where birthdays are held, there might be a leftover one lying around. Of course, he isn’t hopeful considering how fruitless their search has been already, but he doesn’t give up on it. Not yet. He still had two hours to go, anyway. 

When they enter the Daycare—Ranboo still curled up in Freddy’s chest cavity from tiredness still clinging to him—there’s no Sun obnoxiously greeting them. That causes Ranboo to stumble out on shaky legs, because Sun’s their best bet right now, and he won’t let this sole lead go. Though, if they’re not here for whatever reason, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Most likely, their search would just be a wild goose chase for the next two hours, going nowhere but mentally confusing themselves. 

Then, something snaps him from his thoughts, and he staggers backwards into Freddy. The bear looks down at him, and then to the something. Of course, it’s Sun, but with their calming protocols no longer in place, they’re back to before. Ranboo doesn’t know how helpful they’ll be like this.

”Sun, we need—” Ranboo starts before being abruptly cut off by Sun shoving a finger into his face. His nose scrunches up, brows furrowing. 

“Need what? Glitter glue? Googly eyes? Anything you want, I can get, whoo-hoo!” Sun laughs, dancing in place oddly. 

Ranboo—not very impressed—rubs his temples, deciding that getting to the point would be better. “We need a party pass for Fazer Blast. Could you please help?”

Sun seemingly think for a moment, placing a finger on their chin before nodding. They grab his hand and even if he protests, it goes unheard. It’s not like he’d be able to break free of the grip anyway, not with how heavy they are. Ranboo knows that all too well and he grits his teeth, shaking his head to rid himself of the thought.

Luckily, Sun shoving something into his face certainly stirs him from his mind. He splutters, and grabs the thing, probably cursing under his breath in…something. Some language that sounds oddly ancient, but familiar to him nevertheless. He tries to not focus on it, but even the little things like the language he spoke in that world and even his species seem to be slipping from his mind and he hasn’t even died again. Ranboo can only imagine what will happen if he does.

As much as he tries to stalk away, Sun stops him in his tracks, instead asking to thank them for their help. He complies, if only to avoid one of the animatronic’s episodes, but eventually Ranboo scampers back into Freddy’s chest cavity, party pass in tow. 

When Ranboo thinks of it, now that he’s no longer alone, the silence of the PizzaPlex sure finds a way to creep into his bones and nestle between his ligaments. There’s no drone or rumble from the building, but he imagines that the size of it alone makes any sound like that impossible. All he’s heard all night is the shuffle of footsteps on soft carpet and his own ragged breathing. 

Speaking of which, the design on that carpet—now that he can stare at it without feeling like he’s going to get caught off guard—continues to infatuate him, even as they enter Fazer Blast. Though, instead of swirls and squiggles, the patterns are replaced by…they look like circles stacked on top of one another. He swears he’s seen it somewhere before, maybe even seen it destroyed, but its name alludes him. 

And when he tentatively waves goodbye to Freddy, the silence he’s gotten used to disappears. In its wake are buzzes and the drawl of some STAFF bot explaining something he would decipher, if not for how much his head throbs from trying to compute all the information barraging him. The lights assault his eyes too, all flashing neon that persist even when he squeezes his eyes shut.

A few minutes later, Ranboo stumbles into a room with what he assumes is a Fazerblaster. His eyes still sting and his ears still ring upon picking it up, but looking at it definitely doesn’t answer any of his questions. Instead, it only creates more that remain even when he starts playing the game. 

If he thought that the lobby was bad, then the actual game area is even worse for his senses. Every little thing seems out to get him, and Ranboo acts blindly, impulsively. He manages to catch and defend two of the flags relatively easily, if only because the Fazerblaster fits snugly in his hand and he thus accommodates to it well. For some reason, he feels like his aim is due to his expertise with something else, but he can’t remember what.

The third, however, is a different story. Bots shoot at him from all angles and even if they’re not meant to hurt, some phantom pain blooms across his body nevertheless. One even causes him to cry out, and Ranboo wonders how. The pain feels real, even if nothing actually hits him, but he feels like if he continues any further down that line of thought, he’ll surely end up too distracted, so he shakes his head quickly.

Another thought sticks in his mind too, though. It’s the fact this game is apparently full of aliens—something Ranboo swears he’s heard of before, maybe someone he even knew—from space. They intrigue him, but their relentlessness certainly does not. But then, finally, he’s won. Or, at least, he would’ve, if not for the sudden sound of Chica’s voice cutting through him.

”Ranboo,” she calls, and he freezes. He can’t die. Not here, not when he’s come so far. Even if he was meant to have some sort of resolve now, Ranboo instinctively activates the fight or flight response in his fear. Because, of course, Chica is not yet one of his allies. He can’t trust her and thus, she scares, terrifies him even. So, through the winding halls of the game area, Ranboo finds something. Not the lobby, but something much more demented instead.

He clambers into a vent—his fear of any spider animatronics appearing gone after killing one already, even if it makes his gut churn—but on the other end, it opens up into a base of sorts. It’s terribly dark too, and the only thing that lights up the room is an arcade machine. As much as he wanted to play one before, Ranboo doesn’t step any closer, or any further into the room. It feels far too oppressive and tense to be safe. Either something happened here, or the owner themself was the cause of such heaviness.

He gets his answer upon squinting his eyes at reading something on the wall. Or, at least, trying to, because the scrawl is almost illegible. “Vanny,” rolls off his tongue aloud when he manages to figure out what it says, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Through the Fazwatch, Freddy adds something about it sounding like Vanessa, as well as bunny which he can agree with. It only cements the idea—no, fact—that the two are one in the same.

He’s just not sure if he can be scared of her anymore. If he’d faced Death so many times already, he doubts she could be any worse than the literal manifestation of It.

Though, he’s shaken from his musing when Freddy tells him about getting his prize and meeting up outside. Apprehensively, Ranboo makes his way through the game area and to the prize room. His mouth hangs open at it being gold. In his excitement, he might end up letting loose a few stray shots into the wall, but it’s not like anyone could complain when he’s alone after all.

So, when he meets Freddy again, he bounds up to him, showing off the weapon with childish glee and a toothy grin. But, he can’t bring himself to care. Later, he might, but now, he’s just some kid. If he gets thrown into some other life or death situation soon, Ranboo is sure his lighthearted mood will dissipate.

And it does.

It starts out innocent enough. He finds himself in another security office with the usual contents of a security badge to fasten to his shirt, or shove into his pocket and another item. This one, though, makes him go all wide-eyed. Not out of fear, though, rather belated excitement. 

“Freddy, look,” Ranboo exclaims, shakily holding the ticket in the bear’s face. It takes him a bit to figure out what it is, but he stumbles backwards. For a moment, he thinks he’s done something wrong, but Freddy instead reluctantly smiles, or at least some animatronic equivalent. It’s all teeth, he muses.

”Oh, I didn’t even think they had these anymore,” Freddy’s eyes look almost glassy, but not from sadness, rather reminiscence. “It’s for Bonnie’s Bowling. We all used to play there for hours when it got dark. It—it was so much fun…”

”Hey, bud,” Ranboo grabs his attention, giving his own grin. “I’m sure Bonnie’s still here, right? He’ll be fine!”

”Maybe,” Freddy contemplates. “He’s been gone for months though…”

”Well, I have my ways. Considering I’m no normal kid, right?” Ranboo says, and they both laugh. It’s probably the lightest he’s felt, but he knows it won’t remain. He relishes in it whilst it does, basking in Freddy’s rumble and his own giggle. Surprisingly, he doesn’t find himself so disconcerted by how high his voice is. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Getting used to it is one thing, but liking it is another. 

Ranboo isn’t sure where he lies.

From there, though, the two of them find themselves in Bonnie’s Bowling. Compared to everywhere else, it looks awfully rundown, but Ranboo doesn’t comment on it, in case it’s a particular soft spot for Freddy. Instead, he begins to look around for anything that might help him lure out Chica in order to reset her programming. 

In some random bag strewn behind the counter, Ranboo finds something about Chica liking Monty Mystery Mix to the point where she was attacking people for it. Now, he’d prefer a nonviolent option, but with how this place is, he doubts he’s going to get one, so he settles for the cereal option instead. 

And somehow, it works. If unintentionally, because he finds it just lying around in some cupboard, but the chicken must have some sort of sixth sense for the thing when she appears out of nowhere. To anyone else, it might look like he’s about to die, but Ranboo has a plan. 

The trash compactor is nearby and he assumes that it leads to wherever waste goes. If he’s right, that’ll be where Bonnie is. But including Chica in that has knocked his calculations quite a bit. Thus, when she comes running at him, arms outstretched, Ranboo thinks he’s going to get his face ripped off.

That happens to her, though, not him.

Prior to her appearance, he’d been far too close to the trash compactor. So, upon staggering backwards, he falls back first into it. Too driven by the prospect of food, she follows him blindly, only to meet the same fate. It’s a mess of collective limbs as they scramble to stop their fall. Curse after curse rip from his throat upon her hands dragging red ribbons down his arms and in turn, he flails against her. For him only being a weak child physically, it manages to rip her beak off.

And then, Ranboo isn’t sliding anymore. He’s falling, and Chica can fully see him, no longer clouded by darkness. She grabs her beak, and reaches for him. To do what, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get away. A pressure presses against his head, increasingly strong until he feels like he’s going to combust. His chest struggles to rise and fall too, at least until it doesn’t anymore. He hits something way too hard—maybe a floor—and the impact knocks him unconscious.

Bonnie can’t remember the last time he moved. He’s been still for a very, very long time and with that, there’s a numbness to his limbs that he’s never felt before. It’s not like he could anyway—he’s far too rusted, far too damaged to move. He can hope, but it doesn’t mean his wish could come true. Otherwise, he’d still be playing with the band as Glamrock Bonnie, rather than some shell that can’t even move by itself.

One thing he’s done even less than moving is speaking. He wonders that with all the water that collects here if his voice box works anymore. It’s not like he’s had any reason to try, not when he’s the only being here besides some weird reject bots from a horror flick. They’ve gotten used to him and he’s gotten used to them, but it didn’t make living alongside them any better.

He doesn’t know if an existence like this can be called living, though. Bonnie can’t move, can’t speak, can’t perform. What sort of life is one without those? He did nothing wrong, and all the feelings still persist in his system, but…

Bonnie can’t work through any of them. His system works at a rate much too slow to compute anything. He’s surprised he’s even capable of thought anymore, especially in this state. If anything, being powered off would make this whole ordeal easier. He wouldn’t have to wait and wait and wait until he couldn’t anymore. There’s an extent for how much he can handle, and this has definitely surpassed it. Any other time, he would surely have found some way to power off himself, even if that was impossible.

So, all in all, Bonnie waits for something—or, someone rather. He waits for somebody to help him out of this dark hole—both literally and metaphorically—but when he can’t even tell how much time has passed, Bonnie doesn’t think anyone is coming.

At least, not until a sudden crash into the trash causes his ears to perk, making him stirs in turn. It sounds like two somethings, but from the way one splashes in something, Bonnie can tell there’s only one awake—probably terrified too.

”Who…” Bonnie’s voice box crackles, picking up static from the dead signal around him, meaning that they might be an animatronic, “…who are you?”

The splashing stops and silence takes its place. For a moment, Bonnie wonders if it’ll stay like that, but then the something speaks.

”I’m—I’m Ranboo,” the something’s voice quivers and they sound so cold—if he could, he’d probably go and give them a hot chocolate. “Are you Bonnie?”

That causes his eyes to widen. At least, as much as they can, considering they’re damaged enough that they allow only little light to filter through, thus limiting how expressive they are. He’s surprised that this… boy, he assumes, knows of him. Then again, to get down here, Bonnie can only assume the worst.

”I am!” He exclaims, before deciding to ask why he was here. The kid explains that he’s trying to escape here with Freddy’s help—which makes him very, very proud to hear—but the bear wanted to see him again. Long story short, he’s stuck with a kid and a chicken. What could go wrong?

A lot, apparently. Especially when that chicken wakes up, causing a fuss upon noticing her beak missing. Though, hearing Bonnie’s voice calms her and for the first time in forever, he feels a bit warmer than damp.

Ranboo didn’t actually expect for Bonnie to be down here, or for him and Chica to launch into some deep conversation about bowling balls. He’s all damp himself, water dripping off and clinging to him swathes. The water stinks too, probably seeping into his open wounds, and Ranboo hopes nothing gets infected. He doubts that there could be anything so bad that he’d start throwing up within the hour.

At least, that’s what he hopes. Ranboo knows that if he prolongs things any longer, he won’t be able to escape in time for the morning. That settles deep in his gut, never leaving, churning away as a constant afterthought. Bonnie comes to his aid, though.

”You want to get to Parts and Service?” Bonnie asks, voice still garbled, and Ranboo nods, even if the bunny can’t see it. “Well, there’s a vent system. I suppose all of us could go through there, but I’ll probably just be an inconvenience…”

”No!” Ranboo interrupts loudly, and Chica’s cries act as background noise. For a moment, he wonders if he’s fucked everything up, but his world doesn’t shatter upon Bonnie just mumbling in agreement.

Even if Ranboo swears things linger in the dark on the way to the vent, Bonnie just tells him they’ll be fine because he “knows them” and they “know him”, whatever that means. He doesn’t feel as scared as he ought to, but the presence of the animatronics, most of all Bonnie, calms him. Whilst Chica was still dangerous, Bonnie was new, but not capable of hurting him. He was safe, so Ranboo’s glad he’s behind him.

But with every step they take, he can tell the animatronics are beginning to tire from their slowed movements. He just hopes they make it in time.

Somehow, against all odds, they do. They really do, and all three of them clamber out the other end, almost in a heap. Ranboo rolls out of it quickly, the fear of asphyxiation ringing alarm bells in his head. He jumps to his feet, looking around for Freddy. Instead, all he sees is Bonnie at his full height, but in all his damaged glory. His paint was completely chipped off, fading blue lingering where time hadn’t worn him away. Some of his insides were showing too, especially on his legs and torso. 

Monty really did a number on him, huh, he thinks dryly, letting the bunny stumble away. Ranboo doubts he’ll get up to anything malicious, not when he’s in such a state. He assumes that he’s gone to repair himself. Which Ranboo has to do. Again.

Except this time, it’s to a known enemy, rather than an ally like Freddy. Ranboo can’t deny the fact he doesn’t want to do it, but hearing her crying for what felt like hours made his heart pang. Knowing it’s his fault makes it even worse too. 

But, surprisingly, reattaching her beak is not as complicated as he thought. Instead, it just snaps back on with enough effort and patience. She wraps her arms around him for a moment too, but it doesn’t bring him quite the same happiness as Freddy might.

”Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Chica exclaims repeatedly, and Ranboo really isn’t liking the pressure of his chest. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, sweetie. Something was affecting my system, but I can’t say what. It felt like an outsider though.”

”No problem,” he mumbles, but then he hears thudding down the hallway. Rushed, heavy, and he hopes they’re Freddy’s.

They are. But, he’s certainly not alone.

”It’s almost like it’s the original four,” Freddy exclaims whilst they talk amongst themselves. For Ranboo, their conversations feel like drivel he can’t quite join, nor relate to because he can’t understand any of it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

At least, when he studies Bonnie, he looks to be in better shape. Whilst his paint was still peeling, he otherwise had less damage, probably from some spare parts. He doesn’t question how the bunny could get that knowledge.

Instead, Ranboo waits. An hour ago, that might’ve been a bad thing, but now, it feels okay. Even if he doesn’t succeed, if it means making those who have helped him any happier…it’s worth it. He doesn’t care if it might just be his limbo. It’s his, and he will care for it. (Even if some part wishes he just did it alone. Surely, he’d be well on his way to finished by now. Instead, he’s stuck here, all because he couldn’t listen to himself.)

I don’t even know I can trust myself, he thinks bleakly, frowning. If he can avoid that rabbit hole, he will, but with how limbo is, Ranboo wouldn’t be surprised if he has another breakdown born from negativity. Or two. The more, the merrier, right?

He pales, and then Chica goes elsewhere, apparently to do with “staying in character” with what little he catches of the conversation. After, Freddy snaps him to his attention, making him blink a few times to adjust back to reality. He says something about her helping him should he need it, but all Ranboo can hear is white noise.

His brain registers Freddy’s mouth moving, but not the words. When Bonnie mentions Roxy, Ranboo nods along, even if he can’t really tell what’s going on. Is it that rabbit lady—Vanny? From what he remembers, she induced similar symptoms in him, but that would mean she was close by…

”Ranboo, come on,” Freddy exclaims, leading him to the elevator to the main stage. He reluctantly follows, swallowing thickly as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Chapter Text

Although tonight has certainly been something so far—and Freddy isn’t entirely sure whether that something is yet to be good or bad—the best thing to come out of it is definitively seeing Bonnie again. Sure, the bunny was a little roughed up, but who wouldn’t be after spending months in the trash?

Of course, he disregarded Bonnie’s physical state and wrapped his arms around his friend in a hug that set his cold insides ablaze upon finding him unexpectedly in Parts and Service, struggling to repair himself. Warmth coursed through the entirety of his frame at the motion, and Freddy can safely say that their moments will always be the best in his memory. 

Bonnie gave him comfort, stability, a foundation, so without him, Freddy struggled. Going on stage without his best friend there was at best nerve wracking, and at worst a sinking pit in his chest, but he’s never been sure if that’s actually more to do with the space there, or not…

Either way, waiting for their reunion was so worth it, for it was utterly cathartic for Freddy to see his best friend again. The rush of emotions, the unsaid words—they all hung in the air, but in their expressive eyes alone, they understood everything. All the pain, all the suffering without each other, gone, if only for a moment. 

Most of all, it was his friend’s laughter that he loved the most. As garbled and crackly as it was, it was still Bonnie, his best friend, his rock, the one he relied on. To have him back felt great.

Freddy helped his friend repair himself too, giving him new parts to improve his legs and eyes, but not a new coat of paint, or anything else. The parts compatible with him were little, but that was something he was noticing anyway. With each passing day, resources were dwindling in the PizzaPlex. He didn’t know how, or why, because they definitely had enough money with the amount of people that showed up to the band’s performances—

Oh, Bonnie would get to perform again! Freddy was practically quivering with excitement, and it was almost perfect.

Almost.

Because it couldn’t be, not when there was no Foxy. The original band could never be what it once was, not when what was once Foxy was now Roxy. If he could feel nausea rise, he might’ve, at least in that moment. He doesn’t really like reminiscing about Foxy’s death. It was too sudden, too heart wrenching, but he didn’t even have one of those either, did he? All he had was metal.

But, he pushes the line of thought down. That’s all he can do, because he knows that somebody else is relying on him now, even if they have expressed their distaste about it time and time again throughout the night. Of course, it’s his charge, Ranboo. Bonnie brings him up on their way back to meet him and Chica.

Knowing that the kid (or, adult he should say, even if it frazzles his system with a myriad of emotions that he can’t decipher) saved his friends from an eternity in the trash made him so grateful, and most of all, proud. It’s something he’s never quite felt before, at least not for another. If anything, the thrumming within him because of that emotion feels like sparks under metal, setting him alight.

It’s a feeling he enjoys, and as much as he wants to share it with the boy, he can’t. When they return, Freddy is brought into an animated conversation with Bonnie and Chica which enraptures him, because it feels like old times. The times he misses, the ones he’d prefer, but his eyes still drift back to Ranboo from time to time. He just stands there, hunched and staring blankly, but something seems wrong. Very wrong.

Even when Freddy calls for the boy to leave, his body responds sluggishly, dragging his shoes across the floor to make some obnoxious squeaking time. Each and every time, it causes his ears to twitch which Bonnie laughs at, all on cue. He can’t really find it funny, but he doesn’t know why. Whether it’s worry or frustration, Freddy doesn’t know, but he can’t bring himself to say anything.

Not when looking back at Ranboo leads him to that same blank stare and the boy clutching his forehead, biting his lip. He doesn’t mention it—not even to Bonnie in whispering—but something red hot coils in his wires nevertheless. It causes his endoskeleton to tense, but it only confuses him. Why is he so on edge? 

Sure, something feels off with the boy, but he’s got bigger things to focus on. Like getting to Roxy’s Raceway, for example, without getting caught. Of course, it’s not too hard when it’s only Roxy and Vanessa patrolling the place, but he feels like he’s being watched.

Maybe it’s Ranboo with those empty eyes, maybe it’s something else entirely, but Freddy feels scared. His heart can’t beat faster, his breathing can’t quicken, but he shakes. Bonnie continues walking, but why would such emotions be programmed into his system? It made no sense. 

Something tells him that would always be the case in this place.

”Oi, Freddy. What’re you standing about for?” Bonnie questions, stirring him from his stupor. His friend just eyes him warily and motions for them to talk in private, but then Ranboo bumps into him. The boy lets out a grunt, muttering in some unknown language that even his system can’t decipher, before meeting his gaze. His eyes are so empty, or maybe even distant. Whatever it is, it’s wrong, and Freddy wants it gone from his charge.

He wants it gone from this boy he’s sworn to protect, because without him, what else would Ranboo have in this place? Even if Freddy has hurt him—which also confuses him to no end, but he’ll have time to feel guilty later, just not now—he’ll do what he needs to in order to get rid of this wrongness.

Just as Ranboo breaks their stare to stagger after Bonnie—who just looks at them with an unhinged jaw—Freddy grabs his arm. Not forcefully, not heavily, because he wouldn’t want to keep him there if he didn’t want to talk about whatever was wrong, but just enough to hold him in place. His head whips around to meet Freddy’s eyes again, but he just moves away, shaking his head.

”Ranboo, wait! Tell me, what’s the matter?” Freddy tries, but Ranboo just groans.

”Oh my…” he sighs, pinching his nose bridge in some adult like motion that shouldn’t confuse Freddy, but does, regardless of his knowledge, “…I can’t remember. What is it?”

Bonnie comes closer to them both, but Ranboo turns away. “I can’t even remember what the god is. How—how…”

Freddy and Bonnie just stare at each other in confusion. The latter in why is this kid talking about a god, he looks about twelve, and the other in this is bad, very bad.

Ranboo ignores them both, instead continuing to mutter to himself. “If I forget that, then what’ll be next? The reason why I’m here? Who I even am?”

That’s when Freddy knows he can’t let this continue any longer. He shouldn’t have let it get this far, he should’ve stepped it earlier, he knows that, but then why didn’t he—

“‘Ey mate, take one breath in for me, okay?” Bonnie says, snapping both Freddy and Ranboo to his attention. That red hot feeling flares through his system, because he should be doing that, not his friend. Freddy has hurt Ranboo, yes, but that just makes this all the more his duty to help his charge, rather than wallowing in his own confusion and indecisiveness—

“Okay…” Ranboo breathes, in, out, in, out, all whilst clutching onto his torn shirt for something. Maybe to ground himself, maybe as comfort, but Freddy puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder instead. The fact that his charge was in such a state and he’d done nothing about it caused the hotness to flare again, but Ranboo smiling weakly up at him snaps him from it.

”Thank—thank you, Bonnie…Freddy,” he manages, arms falling to his sides. “But, can we get moving now? I—I swear I’m better, it was just a headache.”

”Alright, no need to tell us twice,” Bonnie exclaims with a roll of his eyes in mock annoyance, but a laugh bubbling from Ranboo’s throat because of it makes the feeling return. He knows he shouldn’t let his emotions get in the way, and he should be happy his friend is getting along so well with his charge, but…

Why can’t he just enjoy the happiness whilst it lasts?

Freddy knows it’s limited. Soon enough, they’ll be at Roxy’s Raceway, where she’ll of course be prowling. That’ll probably launch all three of them into fight or flight, and Freddy doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He can’t even express why he feels such hotness circulating around his body upon seeing Bonnie and Ranboo interact with each other so well.

When it was just him and Bonnie, he felt so, so ecstatic. Why wouldn’t he be? He was seeing his best friend for the first time in months—months that seemed to pass so very slowly here—and it was a weight off his shoulders to know he wasn’t suffering anymore.

But, with Ranboo, Freddy wants to be his protector. Freddy wants to care for him. Maybe it’s because his system has adapted to the new goals, made him feel threatened when someone else tries to do his job. That’s probably an innate thing, because Freddy saw what happened to Foxy when somebody came along who did his job better than him.

He was scrapped, and nobody could come back from that. So, maybe the feeling feeds on that fear, but it just doesn’t make sense. Freddy should be happy that he’s not the only one protecting his charge anymore, but he isn’t. He’s threatened, he’s impulsive, but he has to quell the urge to do anything.

That’s his friend, he can’t hurt him, why would he want to—

“…Freddy?” A small voice calls his name, and he looks down to see who they are. It’s Ranboo. His body loses a little of its tension, but he can’t quite stop the feeling of wrongness. Maybe that was only worsening my emotions too, he thinks, just as Ranboo points his gaze towards Roxy’s Raceway. 

“We’re here. Bonnie told me to come get you,” he mumbles. “You were just staring into space.”

”…I see,” he says gruffly, and as he follows after Ranboo, he realises that the emptiness in the boy’s eyes never even left.

Ranboo is good at pretending. He is good at forgetting. Most of all, he is good at not letting people know when something’s wrong with him. At least, that’s what he thinks he used to be like. Now, when even something is slightly out of place with him here, somebody clocks it, and he gets comforted. It feels foreign, but he’s not sure if it’s different to any sort of affection he’s ever received before.

Freddy is different. Bonnie is different. Chica is different. The affection he’s received from them—mostly Freddy, but Bonnie seems nice too—is different. It’s a good type of different, but he’s just not sure if he can apply it to Roxy. She seems like a harder rock to crack, but he doesn’t know why.

Ranboo knows she’s insecure. He knows she’s like him in that sense, but more hours have passed, he can tell that the PizzaPlex has changed too. Sure, maybe it’s just his slipping memory and the dread that comes with forgetting, but it feels tenser, heavier even. Like something weighs down on this place outside of his knowledge, but he can’t even guess why. He wishes he knew more, but being a child is practically the antithesis of that, right? At least, that’s what he tells himself.

It doesn’t help that the static—of which he associates with that rabbit lady—still hasn’t gone away, even after they reach Roxy’s Raceway. Either she’s waiting somewhere around here, watching him, or it’s something else. He just can’t focus on anything.

Red, blue, black. It cycles between those three colours like a broken record, before eventually flittering into something that allows him to see. Even then, his vision is tunnelled at best with how the static festers on the edge of it, expanding mercilessly. In fact, Ranboo can feel it moving past the behind of his eyes to elsewhere in his body. It causes his mind to become cotton, his thinking process slowing as if wading through mud. He feels distant from his body itself too and the exhaustion clinging to his bones seems to increase tenfold, wading him down.

Where is she? Why won’t she just stop this already? From what he knows, Vanny doesn’t seem like the type to wait, but he’s been wrong before. It just confuses him as to why she’d prolong the inevitable.

At least, Freddy and Bonnie manage to find something before his brain can even give him a useful answer for once. It’s some rusty “kart” to “drive” in, but of course, he doesn’t know what any of that means. He doesn’t know what driving is, he doesn’t know what a kart is, but most of all, he’s too short to ride by himself.

How dumb is that? It feels like a punch to the gut, and even if his body feels numb, he grits his teeth at how it flares in pain. Momentarily, he heaves a breath, lungs burning, but then, his vision goes completely dark. This time, it’s not because of the static. It’s something much worse.

Already lightheaded, Ranboo almost faints right then and there from how behind his eyes, his nerves burn, sending signals to his brain that make it explode into a flurry of pain. He stifles a whimper, nearly falling over himself in the dark, but something grabs him. The something that grabs him is definitely metal and so, so cold. It feels like Death Itself reaching for him, claiming him for Its own, condemning him to the Abyss for entirety—

Then, for a moment, his vision clears. His body still burns, but angling his head up to meet the red eyes of the creature makes him wish he never did. It’s Moon, smiling down at him, taunting him. You can’t escape, they almost say from their eyes alone, and Ranboo knows they’re right. He’s too small, too weak to ever squirm his way out of this.

He can’t even scream for help, out of pain, nothing—not when the cold hands wrap around his throat, constricting his breathing. All he can manage is whimpers and grunts, eternally staring up into the red. The colour is like his blood here, but not in another world. Ranboo can’t remember what colour, but it wasn’t red. Never red. 

Still, Moon smiles, and Ranboo can feel slipping. His consciousness, his soul, he doesn’t know what. He’s on the cusp of something, and he doesn’t want to find out what. I don’t even have a choice, he thinks bitterly as the acidic taste of nausea fills his mouth, maybe throwing up on this thing would fry its system.

It wouldn’t work, he knows, and it just adds unwanted humour to the situation. Once again cursing his brain, Ranboo continues to squirm, even if it’s fruitless and a waste of energy. He’d prefer to say he died trying rather than waiting and waiting and waiting for the inevitable—

Then, he’s being thrown to the floor, landing in an ugly mess of limbs that wrenches a screech from his hoarse throat. A hand tentatively comes up on his back, but Ranboo flinches away. He can’t have such weight there, not when it’s suffocated him so many times before, not when he’s still dying—

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Freddy says, and he still doesn’t calm down. In fact, his breathing only quickens and it’s all he can focus on. The static still ebbs at his limbs, but his lungs still burn as hot as a star, as warm as fire licking at his skin, it’s so, so much worse. He only wants to help you, a thought reminds him, but it can’t force itself through the haze of worry, breathe, die.

Ranboo is dying, he knows he is, but this time, he probably won’t even remember himself. He’ll wear the same face, the same clothes, but never think the same thoughts, or feel the same emotions—a perfect blank slate, just the right fit for whatever that rabbit lady has planned—

“Ranboo, kid, c’mon, can you hear us?” Bonnie’s voice cuts through the fog and his eyes snap open. There’s no static anymore, but he doesn’t know where here is. In fact, the only thing that illuminates the place is the distant glow of an arcade machine, as well as the eyes of the animatronics in front of him, eyeing him with concern.

”I—…thanks for saving me from them,” Ranboo mumbles, not wanting to soak in their concern for him any longer. “I—I would’ve been fine though, you didn’t need to—”

”Ranboo, you nearly died there,” Bonnie says, shaking his head. He feels like he’s getting chastised by a parent, but it’s not entirely…unwelcome. Ranboo knows that in another world, they weren’t exactly present, so for Bonnie to act in such a way is essentially…cathartic, but he doesn’t know how. It’s odd, how he’s latched onto these two for that type of attention, but at least it makes him feel a little better.

”I—I know,” Ranboo averts his eyes. “‘M sorry.”

”What?” Freddy exclaims and even though he’s looking at the floor, Ranboo can tell he’s probably looking at Bonnie in…confusion? Concern? Whatever it is, his gut churns coldly in response.

”You don’t need to apologise for that, it’s not your fault, superstar,” Freddy reassures and there it is, the nickname he hasn’t heard in so long. Or, at least it feels like it with how even seconds in this place feel like hours. He lifts his head, giving both of them a weak smile, but it’s better than nothing.

”Superstar?” Bonnie questions curiously, his mechanical brows furrowing. “Isn’t that what I used to call the kids who came by my bowling area?”

Freddy nods, and when Ranboo squints at him long enough, he looks almost red, even if he knows it’s impossible for animatronics to change colour without a paint job. “Oh, y’know. When I met Ranboo, he looked a bit…like he needed a pick me up, and your nickname always did that to those kids, so—so yeah. Yeah. Funny, right?”

Bonnie just laughs at him, jabbing him in the arm. “C’mon, you big dorks. The coast will be clear by now, probably. Moon has the same attention span of the kids they look after.”

Just as they’re about to leave the room, Ranboo’s eyes drift to the arcade machine. It lights up almost invitingly and something within him compels him to play. He knows it might be a waste of time, but it’s a novelty he doesn’t really want to pass up on…

So, he ends up leaving the animatronics’ sides, instead moving to the back of the room where the machine is. For a moment, he doesn’t really know how to play, at least until Bonnie appears behind him.

”I thought we were leaving?” The bunny asks right in his ear, and Ranboo almost screams, but a paw over his mouth silences him just in time. He shakes his head hastily, pointing at the arcade machine instead.

”Oh, you wanna play?” Bonnie asks, and Ranboo nods wordlessly. “I guess it’ll be fine, just don’t take too long.”

It’s a good thing he adapts quickly, or else he’d be struggling tremendously. Of course, all this technology is very new to him, so it still takes some time. As he plays the game—of which Ranboo is some woman, aiming to light up area after area—his stomach twists and turns with an increasing sense of dread. Its coldness claws at his insides and more than once, he freezes up completely, nearly dying. 

Eventually, he finds a key that opens a door that was previously closed in the beginning. The shadow creatures following him the whole time further disconcerted him with how similar they looked to Bonnie, but what he sees at the end is worse.

His character walks up a hallway that the key unlocked to meet a dead end. For a moment, Ranboo thinks he’s went to the wrong place—at least until purple flashes across the screen in the shape of some creature straight from the darkest recesses of his mind, essentially pure nightmare. The purple reminds him of something (blood, traitor, death) and the headache throbbing behind his eyes the whole time explodes into supernova.

His thoughts are blown apart like the matter of that star, and the pain of a scorching thousand suns burns his insides out, tearing a shout so loud from his throat that it makes his ears ring. It’s a mistake, a huge mistake, because that alerts Moon to their location with their advanced hearing. They have little time to react before Moon arrives.

In the darkness, all Ranboo can see is the flickering red of their eyes. It mocks him, and the pain flares tenfold when they approach. The static returns too, and that’s when Ranboo realises it’s coming from them.

But that makes no sense, he thinks, wide-eyed, as he backs away. He knows nothing does, but why Moon? To even think of an explanation as to why they were inducing static like Vanny was something beyond his mental capabilities in that moment. It’s not like he can ponder much anyway, not when that very animatronic is trying to finish the job.

At least, Ranboo thinks they’re after him, but he’s mistaken. Very, very mistaken. When Freddy and Bonnie rush back into the room—probably after hearing his screams—Moon whips their whole body around to face the bunny instead. Ranboo can’t do anything but watch as in their struggle, Moon manages to make Bonnie go limp. Freddy tries to stop them, but is pushed to their floor.

”Moon, stop! We—we just got him back, you can’t do this!” Freddy shouts, running after them, but Ranboo grabs his leg. The bear just looks at him, mouth downturned into a frown, but Ranboo just shakes his head.

”Freddy, I—I’m sure Bonnie will be fine,” he tries, but it sounds fake to even his own ears.

”I hope so. Losing him just after getting him feels…” the bear shakes his head, mouth setting into a firm line. “Never mind. I just don’t understand. Why would Moon do that?”

Laughing rings in Ranboo’s ears then, distinctly Moon’s, but not at the same time. The static flares too, pain reaching a peak that makes his body scream, and then fizzles into nothingness. He slumps to the floor, but he feels so vile. The thing that made Moon’s laugh not itself felt like an intruder—something that was very, very wrong and not meant to be there.

”Ranboo, are you okay?!” Freddy exclaims, just in time to stop him from colliding with the floor. He just nods, even if he can’t really register the words. The laughing keeps looping and he’s sick of it. He wants it gone, but he doesn’t know how, why won’t everything just leave him be—

Ranboo bites his lip, and breaks himself from the cycle of thoughts. He can’t waste anymore time.

”I—I’m fine, Freddy. I think Moon isn’t…themself right now, just like everyone else was. I don’t know why, but trust me,” he mumbles, and even if he does know why, he won’t let the bear know. Not now, at least, because he knows it would crush any hopes of his best friend returning. He can’t risk them falling into despair—not when he’s so close to the end of the night.

”…I see,” Freddy says simply, and they just stare at each other for a moment. I’m going to miss you, Ranboo thinks suddenly, causing him to frown. He doesn’t know if he wants to leave yet, but that’s a problem for future him. At least, not even an hour into the future him.

There’s one thing Ranboo is certain of though. He knows that leaving Freddy before didn’t go too well, but this time, he’s got a plan. And, he isn’t driven by fear of his friend—at least, not as much—so they agree to part, at least for twenty minutes. It’s enough time.

Or, that’s what he tells himself. It’s very much not.

Wandering around the Raceway some more essentially acts as nothing more than a session of mumbling to himself and walking around in circles. Even if he knows he can ask for help on what to do, he doesn’t particularly want to—either out of his own stubbornness or wish to be alone, Ranboo isn’t sure.

At least, that’s until he steps too close to a box, and a STAFF bot leaps out of it. For a moment, he thinks it’s going to try coming out after him too like everything else in this place, but his worries are just for nothing. The thing slumps to the floor not even a second later, and he heaves a sigh of relief. He jerks back after its head falls off, but then he vaguely remembers—and oh, how his brain confuses him—something about the dummy on the kart needing a new head.

Turns out, it’s a bust. He needs to go to some West Arcade, but his stomach sure does sink even more with every step he takes. Last time he went to an arcade in this place, it didn’t go that well.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Ranboo swallows thickly at how odd this place feels. It’s big, even for the PizzaPlex, but the animatronic—if he can even call it that—within the arcade dwarfs it all with not only its immense size, but the amount of guilt that clings to his heart. 

Even if it seems powered down, he can’t help his immediate desire to feel leave. He killed a small version of this thing, so what if it had a bond with what he killed? Would it be angry?

Would it want to do the same to him that he did to its kin?

The thought makes his whole body shake and he walks ever so slowly around the arcade. Nothing sticks out to him that leads to the STAFF bot repair place, at least until he stumbles upon a lever. Some childish sense of curiosity overcomes him the more he studies it, and he pushes it.

A paralysing dread overcomes him as soon as he does. The whole room shakes, signifying the awakening of some behemoth, and that’s when he runs. Through his clouded mind, Ranboo figures out he’s probably flick some more levers. In the arcade, he finds one relatively easily, but after that, he struggles.

Wanting some respite, Ranboo clambers into some stark white room. He can’t really tell what it is, not when he’s focused on bigger things like evading the creature chasing him. It feels like some twisted form of revenge for its kin in how it relentlessly hunts him, and he knows it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have killed it. He shouldn’t have killed anyone. (Ranboo just doesn’t know how well that applies to both this world and another.)

Just as his breathing levels at a normal rate, it immediately skyrockets again when something prods against his back. At first, he wonders if it’s a loose brick at the wall, but no. Rather, it’s the grubby hand of the thing, reaching for him. Eyes blown wide, he freezes in place as its fingers wrap around him, squeezing mercilessly. Something wets his cheeks, and something bubbles in his throat, because there’s no way out, he’s going to suffocate—

No. Mouth setting into a firm line, Ranboo uses all his effort to slink away from its grip. Eventually, it relents, if at the cost of a fully torn sleeve. He’ll take it if it means his survival and of course, another lever.

At first, the third seems normal enough. Easily accessible, nothing sketchy at all. He notices another arcade machine like the one in Roxy’s Raceway too, but that’s pushed to the back of his mind when slamming the lever down leads to a scuttling. And then the behemoth from before appears from the ceiling and in its wake, destroys everything. All of the arcade machines, gone.

Ranboo, too, thinks he’ll be next. In his haste, his shoes become untied, and it leads to him falling. It’s enough for debris to land right on his foot. His sweaty hands pointlessly try to heave him to his feet, even if his body screams in protest. The scuttling in his ears never ceases, only coming closer and closer until it’s probably close enough for it to be breathing hotly on his neck, if it could.

But—as if by some miracle—Ranboo manages to stumble away, shoving himself into what just so happens to be the STAFF bot repair room. With a sigh of relief, he places the head in it to be repaired and he looks at his foot.

Despite being recent, splotches of black and blue already litter his ankle. Prodding them only causes him to cry out in pain. Cursing how much of a klutz he is, Ranboo limps to grab the head when it’s finished. Distantly, he hears music, and he briefly wonders if it’s the huge animatronic playing something. It’s almost enough for his fear to dissipate a little, but then the thought of the arcade machine returns to the forefront of his mind.

Not knowing why he feels so compelled to play it, Ranboo’s legs carry him over debris to where the arcade machine is, even if he feels like his bones become heavier with every step. His hands, too, feel like they are controlled by some phantom force as he plays. He’s still the same woman, and still lights up the area, but his character has a sword too.

Every button press causes more and more dread to coil in his gut, but he can’t rip his hands away. All he can do is stare, transfixed, at the screen as he swipes through shadowy monster after monster and solving puzzles to light the fires. How it ends confuses him deeply, though.

The old man from the beginning says his quest is done, but then his character is abruptly teleported to a room that is much too similar to the security offices he’s seen in this place. Finally, he jerks his hands away from the controls, wiping the clamminess away on his pants.

Making his way back to Roxy’s Raceway feels like a drag. His bones weigh down on him from the inside out, slowing his footsteps to a snail’s pace. Not only that, but he feels scared. He doesn’t want to hurt Roxy, he really doesn’t, but with how she seems to be the one most capable in hurting him in turn, he’s not sure.

His heart thrums in his ears as he makes his way onto the racetrack. He moves on shaky legs and even though he doesn’t know how driving works, he manages to get himself chugging along at a decent pace. For a moment, he even begins to enjoy it, but his smile soon contorts into a deep set frown when he hears metal giving way under the weight of something.

Ranboo’s head snaps up a moment too late as Roxy slams into the track in front of him. No, no, no, he thinks, wide-eyed, I can’t hurt her, Freddy will be so mad!

Instinctively, he jumps out of the kart as if that alone will change its direction from colliding with Roxy. His jaw collides right with the hard ground, causing a previously healed wound on his chin from earlier to reopen. Red streams down his face, but all Ranboo can do is groan at how the entirety of his body burns from meeting the full brunt of the friction acting on the kart. His injured leg feels numb too, but it’s in such a way that if Ranboo were able to angle his head downwards enough without shrieking in pain, it would probably have been hanging on by barely a ligament.

It takes all of his effort to not crumple back to the floor in a mess of limbs when he tries to gauge how much damage he’s done. He stumbles closer, gritting his teeth all the while, and his eyes widen at how she looks even worse than Bonnie did. The realisation makes his mouth drop and he jerks away, body flaring in pain.

Her eyes have popped out too, but Ranboo doesn’t touch them. It feels…wrong to take what was once Roxy’s, but the fact that didn’t extend to Monty makes his stomach churn. He knows he’s the one who upgraded Freddy with the alligator’s claws, and it’s far too late to take back somebody’s death, but…

He can’t help but feel guilty.

Ranboo knows he has to keep going though. So, heavy-hearted, he tries to find a way out. He eventually comes across some wood panels that distinctly carry the smell of smoke—something that makes his nose scrunch up in disgust—but no matter how much effort he puts into opening them, they won’t budge.

Swearing under his breath in that unknown language that even he’s struggling to remember the name of now, Ranboo’s head whips around when footfalls sound behind him. How is she moving, he thinks, just as she leaps at him. It takes everything within him to dodge it, but it gives him an idea when he realises she’s broken the wooden panel.

His idea fails not soon after. Of course, with his body as worn out as it is, it’s no surprise that he’s not as nimble as he normally would be. Thus, Roxy’s jaw latches onto some part of him and she claws elsewhere. At some point, he hangs on the verge of unconsciousness, just enough to feel, just enough not to. It’s the memories drifting  away that scares him the most, though. Like the sands of time, Ranboo can’t clutch onto anything that slips away. It just fades into nothingness.

And then he’s dead.

The only indication that the boy is on the verge of consciousness is the occasional twitch of his fingers, or the scrunching of his nose. From the platform above, Roxy stares down at him. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t killed him yet, not when he’s hurt Chica and killed Monty. It would just be returning the favour, right?

She just can’t bring herself to jump down and finish the job, not when he’s so…vulnerable. In fact, the way he slumps awkwardly in the seat of the kart makes her grimace, but it pulls on the edge of her programming. Even if something else has tainted her system, it can’t stop the barebones programming kicking in. Right now, her system urges her to see what’s wrong, but then it conflicts with the fact this is her Raceway.

And Roxy has waited so very long to drive around the track, to race someone else. The exhilaration is next to none in how it thrums through her blood like adrenaline, and she would live off of it if she could. Hence why she can’t bring herself to jump. Not now.

Instead, she does her own preparation. She watches silently, preparing her own kart, and then the boy starts to stir. In order to hide herself again, she climbs back up onto the platform, watching the boy like a predator might do to its prey.

When he wakes up, Ranboo’s head jerks into something hard, causing him to clutch it. Then, his eyes snap open, realising he’s back at the start. The realisation confuses him, because why would it happen with Roxy, but not Monty? It’s nonsensical, but he knows he can’t ponder it.

Well, maybe he can. His mind feels so very empty, and maybe some thinking would do it some good. Anything filling the void would be better than nothing.

At least, that’s until he unintentionally starts the kart, sending him forwards quickly. Ranboo curses at the sudden movement, but then Roxy is in the kart beside him and he’s slamming down on whatever makes the damn thing go any faster.

Even if the track seems quite rundown, Ranboo’s kart drives across it seamlessly, Roxy jeering at him from behind. After the sixth lap, some of the fear starts to wear off a bit and he gives more into the thrill. By the tenth, he’s laughing and joking with Roxy in the way a child his physical age might. He knows something is wrong with that—his mind even screams it—but he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t know why it’s wrong either, not when Roxy is just being a bit excitable about the race. Turns out, he actually comes in first, and Roxy ruffles his hair. Some part of him feels the urge to jerk away and run, but he doesn’t.

Ranboo just stays in place, smiling up at her. Why was he so scared anyway?

”Well done, cub!” Roxy exclaims, and then her brows furrow. “I just have one question…why are you so injured?”

That causes him to look over himself and he is indeed quite damaged. Wounds and black and blue splotches litter his body, but it’s the burns running up his arms that seem to concern Roxy the most. She crouches down to get a closer look herself, but then a voice sounds.

The disembodied voice announces that it’s 6AM and it makes Ranboo’s body shake. I can leave, his mind repeats excitedly and he looks up at Roxy again.

At least, that’s before the lights go out. It reminds Ranboo of this very place being plunged into darkness earlier, and a familiar laughing rings in his ears. He stumbles back into Roxy, shaking profusely.

”Roxy, can—can you help me get to the lobby, please—” 

What he backs into isn’t Roxy. It’s red, so, so red, and the static clouding his vision doesn’t help. All he can focus on is the redness of whatever it is, and not even somebody crying out registers to his fried brain. Maybe it’s him, maybe it’s not, but he doesn’t have time to ponder it.

Not when he’s plunged into unconsciousness at the hands of the thing, snuffing him out like a candle.

Chapter Text

Sunlight bears down on a rickety boat—more like a raft, if anything, since such a thing could never survive a storm—that drifts gently on serene waves, reflecting the rays back at the cloudless sky. Blue stretches as far as the eye can see, and one might consider it a scene straight out of textbook paradise. To the boy on the boat, limbs all splayed out at awkward angles, it’s very much not. 

Groaning, Ranboo shifts onto his side—even if his body erupts into pain at the slightest motion—and he brings a hand up in front of his face to shield himself from the oppressive sun glaring down at him. Something feels very, very wrong about this whole scenario and he can only begin to describe how. One, the vessel he’s on looks like it might break in half from the slightest shift in weight, and two, it’s too serene. A past him might have revelled in it, but after surviving Death so many times, he’s come to learn that things often go further than surface level.

He can’t even remember how he would get here. The last thing he remembers is a PizzaPlex, not preparing for a trip by sea on some shitty boat. Nausea burns his throat from not only the waves, but also that thought. Who would put him here and most importantly, why?

Thing is, Ranboo hates water. Maybe it’s leftover instinct, maybe it’s not, but with the boat he’s drifting on, he’s not exactly confident that it’ll survive even him moving around a bit. And in the case it does fall apart, he’ll definitely be consumed by the ocean, because he doesn’t remember swimming—not even as muscle memory. For some reason, he remembers burning from trying it before, but such a thing would make no sense.

Death doesn’t make sense rings in his head momentarily, making him blink a few times to ground himself—even if there’s no steady surface to be found. He’s constantly swaying, constantly drifting on an aimless ocean and Ranboo wants to be anywhere but here.

Dread fills him and he briefly wonders if it’s the same coldness he’d experience when drowning. He doesn’t even want to entertain that thought, nor the fact he doesn’t even know where here is. Ranboo wants out, he doesn’t want to die—

You won’t die.

”What?” Ranboo’s voice cracks, his throat all dry from disuse and thirst. Briefly, he searches for the source of the words, boat bending in each direction he moves to. He comes up empty-handed and he sighs. It’s probably just your imagination, Ranboo thinks, sitting himself back down on the large pole in the middle of the raft. Besides that, the vessel is completely barren of anything useful.

If he had anything, he might’ve been able to find out where he is and get out. Get away. Get help. He wants out—

You won’t die.

Ranboo’s hands start to shake as his eyes wildly scan the blue surrounding him for anything. There’s nothing. He’s alone. The wood creaks underneath him as he falls backwards, back meeting the hard surface. A grunt escapes the confines of his throat, but he’s been through worse.

Of course he has, because why else would he be covered in all these fresh wounds? All of it is a bit of a blur, but Ranboo remembers the pain, the desperation, the hurt. He wanted help then and he got it, but the same won’t happen here.

He’s alone. He always will be.

You won’t die.

A cry rips itself free from Ranboo’s throat as pain runs up his wrist right up to his shoulders. From his eyes snapping to his right arm, there’s no visible wound, but something lurks inside his bones, prying for the opportunity to dig in further. He clutches onto the exposed skin, sleeve having previously been torn off in a previous altercation. Or, that’s at least what he assumes his past self did, and he’s probably half right.

The sky itself flares bloody red in that moment, eclipsing even the sun. There’s no comfort in it like a sunrise telling of a new beginning, only Death and the beginning of the end. Ranboo’s hand flinches away from his arm as he squints up at it. It looks unreal in a way he’s never seen before—even if he feels like he’s been to places more exotic before—and momentarily, he finds it beautiful. Brutally beautiful, if not for the fact that in its wake, the new sky had upset the serenity of the ocean below it.

The waves steadily increase in turbulence, and it’s not long before Ranboo’s fighting to keep himself above water, let alone attached to the vessel. They batter both him and the raft, placing him under its complete mercy. His fingers dig into the wood, but without any claws, it’s a useless endeavour. The material itself doesn’t help, not when wood falls apart easily when sodden.

Upon hearing a sickening snap, Ranboo’s stomach drops as the raft begins to succumb to the pressure of the infuriated  ocean relentlessly charging at it with powerful waves. He was right. It just means he’s going to die upon losing his only buoyancy aid within the entirety of this ocean.

You won’t die.

After a few more minutes of struggling under the weight of angry waves, they consume both him and his vessel whole—right into its blue maw. It feels so, so cold, perhaps even colder than Death itself. For some reason, Ranboo feels like he’s familiar with It, perhaps to the point of friendliness. That makes his stomach twist this way and that, just like the waves throwing him around like a rag doll.

No amount of flailing of his limbs enables him to fight the current. It saps at his energy and any resolve he has until nothing remains except the incoherency of his thoughts and a ringing in his ears, perhaps from the pressure acting on him from above. His eyes—albeit stinging—remain open, witnessing the quickly receding redness disappear from view. Ranboo reaches out a hand towards it in a movement that requires so much effort that it will probably be his last.

From there, he embraces the darkness that comes with closing his eyes, but certainly not the numbness pricking at his organs, at his every limb. It’s like some invisible killer, taking all and leaving behind nothing. He lies on the verge of consciousness and unconsciousness, death and undeath, but even he’s uncertain as to which side he will drift towards more. Something keeps his heart in his chest beating, even if he would’ve gave up long ago.

He would’ve gave up when he stopped flailing.

You won’t die.

Ranboo’s eyes snap open again and with it, he takes in a gulp of saltiness, and maybe even bitterness. It corrodes him from the inside out, leaving him convulsing in place in some vain effort to repel the water from his body if only to let more in. He doesn’t even know if it’s water anymore, not when its consistency has become more viscous and black. Maybe even purple, but that just makes adrenaline thrum in his ears.

If anything, it feels more like ink, and Ranboo finds the fate almost laughable. Slowly and painfully suffocating to Death in ink. Laughable for a man who might as well be his own final words. He doesn’t know why he’s here, or why dying feels so much worse, but he won’t fight it anymore, not when it’s pointless.

Hideous laughing fills his ears then, familiar in a way he hates and leaves him somehow even colder. Frigid hands trail all along his skin and with every breath, his lungs become closer and closer to collapsing under the weight of the ocean.

You won’t die mixes with the laughing, but it feels a lot more comforting. It feels like the final embrace between loved ones, and it rejuvenates him. Or, hearing it at least compels him to push his feet off the seabed and kick his legs under he can’t anymore. 

Somehow, he breaks the surface, taking in large breaths of oxygen that fill his body with feeling. Ranboo bobs for a few moments, going back down every other, until pain shoots through his other arm, causing him to stiffen. The relaxation of his muscles allows the waves to take him for their own again, and this time, he doesn’t manage to break free.

Instead, the red fills his vision, a final sight before he heaves a last breath that leaves him—more than anything—yearning for any better outcome. It’s not worth it now, he thinks bitterly, as his eyes flutter closed.

Gradually, feeling returns to Ranboo’s body. It begins with a twitch in his fingers, then a jerk in his arm—even if that only causes a spike of pain to run through him—and finally, a whole body spasm that snaps him from whatever state he was in from that…dream? Nightmare? It didn’t feel like either— it was far too real.

He pushes it from his mind, though, as his eyes peel open. It takes a great effort as if something was deliberately pulling his eyelids together to protect him from whatever his eyes would meet, or more likely to blind him. He manages one eye, but it’s enough.

A quick flickering of his eye around wherever he is causes his heart to hammer against his rib cage. His thoughts feel like rolling around in an uncontrollable and unnavigable ocean, making it impossible to reach for anything coherent. It all makes sense from the fact that he’s not only being held upside down by cold metallic hands, but also the fact he’s surrounded by the beings that cause his brain to frazzle.

In his stupor, he slowly realises that he must’ve been squirming a bit too much as a cry rips from his dry throat when Vanny drags a knife up his arm. Its sharpness consumes the entirety of his being, releasing a barrage of pins and needles that causes him to tense up. His eye barely stays open enough for him to realise that she essentially made a pre made wound bigger and deeper with that movement. Blood cascades down both of his arms, but more profusely from his left.

Biting his lip to stifle any whimpers that might threaten to escape his throat, Ranboo knows he needs to leave the clutches of both Moon and Vanny, or else he might as well be condemning to Death again, and he’s already done too much of that tonight. It’s just a bit difficult when both the static festering at the edge of his vision and the pain numbing his body all contribute to a headache steadily forming behind his eyes. 

Nausea burns his throat and try as he might, Ranboo struggles to keep it down. Upon noticing how pale he looks, Vanny crouches down and grabs his chin, forcing his mouth closed. Instead of bringing a finger to his mouth to keep him quiet, she uses a bloody knife—the one he assumes was digging into his skin from how hot the blood feels as it dribbles into his mouth. 

It feels and tastes disgusting, but Ranboo can’t do anything but squirm in place as if his sweat will somehow cause him to slip free like some sort of fish. He knows Vanny won’t allow for that. If he tries that, she’s the one with the weapon, and he knows that she won’t hesitate to kill him. Something within him urges him to anyway, but he doesn’t listen. All he does is hang there limply, staring blankly into the red of Vanny’s suit eyes.

”Ah-ah,” she croons, clicking her fingers right in front of him, causing his drooping eyes to snap him back into awareness. “No falling asleep now, Ranboo. You were already unconscious for so long. I’m not letting you have anymore reprieve.”

With each word, the static increases until the only thing he can see is a blur. Everything becomes muted and dull with Vanny’s words only vaguely registering. To her, he just looks like a fish out of water with how dead he looks, but his breathing—however laboured—indicates the fact he’s indeed alive. 

Somehow, through the haze of both the static and the pain, Ranboo begins to formulate a plan. If he can just get through to Sun by turning the lights on, he might be able to make the playing field fairer. Thing is, he doesn’t even know if that’s possible since they’ve apparently gained the ability to turn off the lights whenever they please…

Another jab in his left arm causes Ranboo to rip it from Vanny’s grip. She stands up, and though the mask may remain emotionless, he can tell she’s pissed. Her fists shake and he uses that moment to clutch onto Moon’s clothes, banging metal until it gets their attention. His punches don’t do anything except cause his knuckles to start bleeding and soon enough, a whimper leaves his throat from the pain.

”Moon—Moon, come on, please snap out of it. Please—” Ranboo begs, getting more and more desperate with each word. Vanny then grabs a fistful of his hair, bringing him into an awkward position where he’s staring directly up at her. 

“They can’t hear you. In fact, there’s no Sun in there, or even Moon for that matter,” the unmoving smile of Vanny’s mask mocks him. “Let alone anyone else. I made sure of that.”

Wide-eyed, Ranboo just stares at her for a moment, studying the redness. It’s so, so difficult to see anything beyond a blur through the static, but he can feel whenever she meets his gaze. If everyone is gone…did that include Freddy?

The realisation makes him pale. His breath gets caught in his throat and that only causes him to squirm even more. He  can’t—won’t—stay here, not anymore, he’s more than this—

Or, is he?

If he was better than this, he wouldn’t have let himself be brought here so easily. He would’ve fought back. He wouldn’t have died again.

His resistance eventually fades into nothingness as soon as his resolve disappears. Ranboo’s muscles lose their tension, but his heart still pounds in his ears nevertheless. 

“I thought that would make you stop,” Vanny says, probably smirking under the mask. “I can’t kill you though. You’re important in helping Him achieve what he wants.”

All Ranboo can do is furrow his brows in confusion at her, for he knows he’ll receive no further explanation. Vanny is no friend of his. No one is in this place. Not anymore.

His vision swims again upon another jab into his arm, but that’s when Ranboo realises his hands are free. He’s restricted only by Moon holding him up, but if he breaks free of them, then he might be able to outpace Vanny enough to leave the building.

Hands curling into fists, Ranboo tenses up again. If he can get enough force from breaking away, he can get a head start and he knows he’ll need it if Vanny is as adamant as he thinks she is. He’s evaded her a few times already, what’s one more? 

Even if his head spins, Ranboo has more coherency to his thoughts now. It feels like warmth in his head compared to the previous emptiness and he relishes in it for only a moment. Anything more would be a waste. 

As Moon has him held up around his ankles and Vanny is far too intent upon carving that knife into his arm, he’s able to kick one leg free with enough shifting. In the process, it causes the motionless Moon to crumple backwards into a position that would undeniably break their back if they were anything organic. Though, in doing so, this causes Ranboo to land right on his neck.

Momentarily, he hears a crack so deafening that it rings in his ears. It’s enough for him to freeze in place for a few seconds too long as his mind overloads his senses with input alone. He can feel the throbbing at his neck alongside a hotness pooling behind him the longer he stays on the floor. He cradles his neck, quickly scrambling to his feet as his ears prick from frantic footfalls behind him.

Light, light, light, make Sun come out rings in his head, exhausted body protesting from being pushed past its limits and beyond. Some part of him already knows it’s futile, but he won’t heed it. Not when he’s so close. He can practically taste freedom on his tongue, all he needs to do is get Sun free from Vanny, use them as a distraction and then—

The lights blink on within an instant of Ranboo grazing the switch. It’s not enough. When he looks back to what was once Moon, Sun lies there, crumpled on the floor in a mess of metal. That gives Vanny ample time to take him by surprise from behind, right into his already vulnerable neck.

A curse from a language he doesn’t even remember tears from his throat, but he can feel it. This isn’t resignation with Death as he’s ever felt it before. What this is the end. There’s no coming back from this. Ranboo knows, but he doesn’t stop struggling.

“Who knew such a kid could be such a fighter?” Vanny hisses, digging her fingers into his neck. “It’s a shame I have to keep you alive for Him. If not, I would’ve killed you already, and it would’ve been so fun.”

The slow constriction of her hand around his neck reminds him of the beginning where it was just the two of them, but by now, her handprint from then is overlapped by many more. Mostly Moon’s, he thinks bitterly. Why did he even try? Here, he’s just some pathetic kid and even in another world, he might as well be the same—a cowardly traitor.

Soon enough, he’s gasping for air, clawing at her hand desperately. It doesn’t make her relent at all. Memories enter his mind, of both here and another world, of his loved ones and those he hates, of his failures and successes. He wants them, anyone, so badly, but even in his final breaths in limbo, he’ll have no one. 

The air is then knocked out of him when Vanny abruptly drops him to the floor in a mess of limbs. Ranboo coughs, only warily eyeing the purple blood that stains his hand. He instead turns to face Vanny who looks at him blankly, even through the mask.

Without a second thought, Ranboo puts all of his weight behind a punch right to her cheek, sending her to the floor herself. Despite having the physical strength of a toddler, his anger alone when combined with that is enough to send her reeling. She doesn’t even jerk back though, only bringing her hand up to her masked cheek. His brows furrow, but when she goes limp, Ranboo realises he’s knocked her unconscious.

”I—I did it,” Ranboo laughs weakly, dropping to the floor beside her limp body. Blood still streams from both his arms and the back of his neck, but it barely registers as even an afterthought when there’s adrenaline running through his veins. Though, with Vanny out of the count for now, he decides to sate his curiosity. 

He doesn’t even let out a gasp when taking off her mask reveals Vanessa, already black and blue from where he punched her. Ranboo can’t bring himself to feel any pang of sympathy, not after everything she’s done, but his eyes drift to the arcade machine in the back of the room. In some way, he knows they relate to her, even if he doesn’t know how.

Something compels him to play, and so he does. It’s very similar to the second game, if much eerier from the fact he feels like he’s being watched. The shadow creatures seem much more difficult too, alongside the puzzles, but he manages his way through them. In the back of his mind is the fact that Vanny could easily wake up at any time and kill him, but…

Something tells him she won’t. It’s just a feeling, and Ranboo always trusts his gut. (Even if it isn’t that at all.) 

Whilst he plays, he manages to find some green rabbit toy that seems rather out of place in a game like this. It looks too innocent, but that alone disconcerts him. How weird, he thinks absentmindedly, not noticing how his heart starts to hammer, nor how sweaty his hands start to get.

Ranboo ends up in a similar hallway to the one from the first game, but it seems a lot more glitchy. If anything, the whole game does, but never to this extent. The game flashes to black when his character slices open a purple door, but a scream sounding from behind him makes his head whip around. 

It’s a blood curdling scream that causes his entire body to freeze. He doesn’t even breathe. Vanny—or, Vanessa he should say—spasms in place and then that awful laughing rings in his ears again. He slumps to the floor beside the arcade machine, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll block out anything. The sounds assault his ears until both come to an abrupt stop.

Ranboo sighs deeply, hating the way his lungs strain to inflate and deflate. His head hits off the arcade machine when Vanessa suddenly snaps to awareness, staring right at him. Her face suddenly becomes animated as she shrugs herself out of the suit, turning to Ranboo to take her hand. He looks blankly at her in turn.

”C’mon, Ranboo. I—I promise He’s not in my head anymore,” Vanessa’s voice cracks, a complete opposite to the person he knows her as. She averts her eyes. “I’m safe.”

He clutches onto her hand like a lifeline, tripping over himself briefly. She brings him into a hug, but he hates it. The memories are all too fresh and he pushes her away.

“Vann—Vanessa, I can’t trust you. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, ignoring her pointed gaze. “You hurt me so much. It seems like you didn’t have a choice, but stuff like that just doesn’t go away with a hug.”

Ranboo shifts from foot to foot to try and keep himself from focusing on the awkwardness as she continues to speak. “I—I understand. Even if He was in my head, it was still me. I’m just really thankful, y’know?”

He nods, but he knows what must be done. Before he leaves, he knows he needs to find Freddy and Bonnie at the very least. They’ve helped him so much and even if there’s been just a few misunderstandings—or, complications, he should say—he doesn’t want to leave them. He won’t abandon them as others have done to him.

”Vanessa, could you help me find everyone else?” Ranboo asks, just as he goes to clamber away to get away from the hideout.

”Of course,” Vanessa replies. “Anything for the kid who freed me!”

Ranboo just wonders what she could even mean by ‘freed’. All he did was play a few arcade machines, right?

Turns out that despite being the security guard of the PizzaPlex, Vanessa isn’t as knowledgeable as she should be. She knows where the animatronics are—underneath the PizzaPlex, somehow—but she can’t remember how. Discomfort still churns in his gut at her presence, but he knows he needs to push through it if he wants to see Bonnie or Freddy again. 

Though, even she dances around any questions he asks about them—especially when it was Bonnie. She just remains quiet, forcing him into silence by extension. The atmosphere feels far too oppressive in those moments, but finally, they come across an elevator.

”This—this is it,” Vanessa announces, voice wavering. Ranboo snaps his head back around to her, even if the sudden motion causes his neck to explode in pain. He bites his lip, all whilst staring at her.

”What are you just standing there for?” He says, jabbing a finger at her chest. “You’re showing me where they are, Vanessa. You did this to them, so you help me fix it.”

”I—I can’t, kid,” she stammers, stepping backwards. “If He finds me, if he knows I’m not Vanny anymore, then he—he’ll—”

”He’ll what? Kill you?” Ranboo scoffs. “I get you’re scared of him, but—”

”You don’t understand! He’s been in my head for years, or maybe even longer,” Vanessa snaps, gesturing wildly. “Day in, day out, he torments me. He made me into Vanny. He made me into Him.”

”What—”

“He never left me alone, y’know?” Vanessa’s voice cracks. “It was all because of that fucking VR game. He drove my friend to death. I thought it would work for me too, but—but—”

”Stop!” Ranboo cries, clutching his neck in confusion. “Just—just stop. Are—are you telling me you’re dead too?”

She nods, and his jaw hangs open. He staggers backwards, shaking his head. No, no, no. That can’t be right, because what about everyone else? Were they like Vanessa too? Her relationship with this ‘Him’ seems so familiar too, but not in a way like he knows who the ‘Him’ is. He’s experienced something like that before, but who? Why?

Of course not they’re not like her, a thought retorts, pulling him from his stupor about Vanessa and ‘His’’ relationship, they’re just machines. He wants to be right, he really does, but something tells him that he couldn’t be anymore far off. If this isn’t just his limbo, then…

Why didn’t Death tell him any of this?

He needs out. He needs to help his friends. He just doesn’t know how.

“Ranboo?” Vanessa tries, snapping him back to…reality…if limbo could even be called that. He just shakes his head at her.

”Do—do you know if the others are like you?”

”I—…Ranboo, I only realised who, or even what I was when you freed me. I doubt they’ve realised yet, even if they are.”

It settles heavily in his gut, but he nods at her. Ranboo doesn’t care if the elevator will only be a one way round trip. He just wants to say goodbye.

The air here is so much…older than the above. If it was oppressive there, then it’s downright difficult to keep moving out of sheer fear here. Ranboo urges himself to move, even if his body begs for him to just lie down and stop. He continuously bleeds, but until he finds anyone he recognises, he won’t. Not now.

The technology doesn’t seem to compare either. Any light is at best a humming buzz, constantly flickering on and off. It’s downright archaic.

He sticks close to Vanessa from the amount of eyes he feels watching him—probably pulling from some childish fears that he still won’t admit to having. She shakes in fear too, constantly mumbling about ‘Him’. Ranboo still doesn’t know who she’s so scared of, but some part of him is glad he doesn’t. If ‘He’ can scare the so-called murderer, then he can only imagine…

”Here, Ranboo,” she points to a door. “That’s the office. They should be in there.”

Walking inside reveals nothing but monitors, a vent and another door. Turning around, he realises far too late that Vanessa’s gone. A hand smothers him, preventing him from speaking. Somehow, though, he’s able to bite her hand, causing her to jerk away. Blood that’s not his own fills his mouth, but he doesn’t care.

Ranboo shoves her to the floor, ignoring any crack he hears. “What are you doing?!”

”I—I’m sorry, Ranboo. It was Him again, I swear—”

”Him, Him, Him! I don’t care, just tell me where they are, or maybe I’ll do the same to you!” He snaps.

”They’ll come, now that you’re here,” Vanessa says shakily and Ranboo’s head snaps to one of the monitors. Stalking down one of the hallways is Roxy, but there’s something very, very wrong. He swallows thickly, shaking his head.

“Where’s Freddy and Bonnie, Vanessa?” Ranboo cries, feeling like a kid who’s lost their parents. Any anger he had directed at her is now replaced with pure fear. He doesn’t even care that it’s childish, he just wants his friends, anybody besides the one who caused this mess—

“Fred—Freddy should be roaming the halls alongside Chica and Roxy.”

”And what about Bonnie? Stop avoiding the question, or else I—I’ll throw you out the door myself!”

”He’s—oh shit.”

Following Vanessa’s gaze to the monitor behind him, Ranboo runs up to it. The screen gently flickers, but something shaped similar to Vanny’s suit clambers outside of a charging station with what seems to be great effort. The thing looks deformed, ancient compared to the rest of the animatronics.

”What is that thing, Vanessa?!”

”It’s Him.”

Ranboo stiffens immediately. His muscles tense up, but he can’t bring himself to move. All he can do is stare at the thing, however grotesque it looks. It shares his gaze, somehow, and laughing rings in his ears. The laughter behind Moon’s own, the one he’s heard all this time, it’s Him, but who the fuck is this and why do they want him?

Footsteps too close to the door snap him to the awareness. He slams down on the button, and looking through the window brings him face to face with Chica. She just bangs and bangs against it, never relenting. Vanessa, having pulled herself to her feet, runs to the vent and other door, closing them too. 

“What are we going to do?” Ranboo asks frantically, ears pricking at the screech of metal yielding under pressure. “Those doors aren’t going to last long, and we can’t outrun them, so—”

”We can’t do anything now,” Vanessa averts her eyes from his own and Ranboo runs up to her. “The only thing we can do is wait. Either for Him to get here, or for the animatronics to break the doors down. Slow and painful.”

Surely, there was something? But no matter how much he retreats into his mind, it comes up empty. He’s entirely thoughtless, or rather stuck in an inescapable torrent of them. It’s nonsensical, and even in the time where he needs his brain most, he finds nothing.

Pathetic, he thinks, slumping on the furthest wall away from the doors. Vanessa sits close by, but she just stares at the animatronics. Instead of their usual eye colour, they glow purple which just makes his heart hammer ever faster. There’s nowhere else to go. This is it.

Closing his eyes, Ranboo breathes in, out, in, out for those last few moments of peace. His body might already be pushed to its very limits, but he knows that the pain he experiences from these animatronics—his friends—will be so much worse. 

When he expects the screech of an animatronics, his nose instead scrunches up from the smell of smoke. His eyes snap open, only to see Vanessa at the buttons of the monitor. He grabs her arm, but she just stares blankly in return.

”What are—”

”Don’t worry, Ranboo,” Vanessa pats his head, but he just flinches away. “This’ll set us all free, even you. It won’t hurt.”

But it will, he thinks, grimacing. That dream from earlier flashes in his mind, and the pain that felt so real then might become reality if he doesn’t get out. Then, the animatronics might just tear him apart, limb from limb. What can he do? 

He already knows the answer.

”Open the doors, Vanessa. If I’m going to die, I’d prefer it to not be slow.”

”What—?” She just gawks at him, but he presses the button instead. Immediately, Chica and Roxy clamber into the room, hissing and metal creaking. They look poorly put back together, but laughing echoing down the hallway freezes him in place. Both he and Vanessa share a look, and Ranboo flinches away when he notices that both of the animatronics were heading towards her.

A gasp, then a thud. Ranboo pretends to not look at the pool of blood inching its way towards him out of the corner of his eye. Instead, he shoves himself onto the desk behind him, reaching towards the vent. He doesn’t know where Freddy is, but between these three and him, he knows which he’d rather be killed by.

A hand—warm, oh, so warm—reaches for him by the back of the neck, barely grazing the still bleeding wound. He yelps, but the owner of the hand pulls him into the vent anyway. It feels so very small and with all the smoke, his breaths become increasingly laboured.

They share not a word, but Ranboo already knows who it is. From the twitching alone, he can tell it’s Freddy, desperately trying to fight off the infection at which the others had already succumbed to. He squeezes his eyes closed, feeling himself slipping, either to suffocation by smoke or from Freddy’s tight hold. 

Then, cold hands rip him from his peace as he’s shoved from the vent to the floor. Before, the pain was but an afterthought, but this feels like both imploding and expanding at the same time. Too much all at once. He screams, louder than he’s ever done before, and it’s that thing.

Up close, it looks even worse. Metal and corpse, mixed into some half organic being that if he could, Ranboo would be scrambling away from. He barely realises they’ve pulled out Freddy too and they’re tearing him apart, limb from limb—

“Eyes on me, kid,” the creature rasps, slamming a metal foot down on his chest to knock the air out of him. “Do you know who I am?”

Ranboo shakes his head, gasping for air as though he were underwater. Somehow, the thing grins, shifting the foot on his chest as if he were some sort of disposed cigarette. No amount of squirming stops the constant motion, and at this point, he’s coughing up purple blood.

The creature bends down to wipe it from his chin, somehow squinting at it. “I knew you weren’t from my world. That’s what makes you so important.”

”W—why?” Ranboo chokes, and everything is so purple. His blood, the thing’s eyes, everyone’s eyes for that matter…

”You know Death, right?” The thing’s voice takes on a darker edge upon his small confirmation. “Well, I have a problem I want to take up with It. With my little friends here, I might be able to break free of this shell and reunite with the other me. Just like your revival, right?”

Wide-eyed, Ranboo returns to squirming, shaking his head profusely. “I—I won’t let you—”

At that, the creature picks him up by the neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him. Any tension eases from his body, and for once, he feels light. He doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home.

You won’t die.

Around him, the room begins to shift and glitch, flickering between realities. A presence so otherworldly enters his awareness, making his mind numb. 

“Get away from him, Afton,” a voice shakes the very foundation of the room, omnipresent. The creature—or, Afton, from what he assumes—shakes his head, but drops him anyway. He takes in gulps of air, but it’s so unclean and contaminated with carbon that he was better off choking.

Ranboo can barely cling to consciousness enough to see Afton and the other animatronics stalking out the room. It’s only when the voice sounds from behind him that he looks up. “I’m sorry,” is all she mouths, and then it goes black.

There’s no feeling in the Abyss, Ranboo knows. There’s no light, no laughter. Just him, his thoughts and his memories, or at least what little remains of them. He can’t even remember when he was brought here anymore. At this point, his consciousness has adapted to the numbness of the Abyss and thus is rarely aware of anything beyond the meagre thought here and then.

He’s just so empty and everything still hurts from his time in limbo. For all he knows, they’ll persist eternally, and if anyone were to see—

Well.

That’s if he even gets to leave this place.

He’s just about to settle back into the numbness when the void suddenly flashes white. In front of him appears a woman offering him a hand and even if he’s forgotten her name, he reaches for it anyway. Ranboo gawks at her, empty eyes as wide as saucers. She’s so bright that he has to shield his eyes, but that might only be because all he’s lived in for so long is the darkness.

She wraps him in a hug, and he goes slack. A rush of emotions enter him, alongside memories that feel like him, but not him too. He staggers backwards and looks up at her.

”What—” his voice cracks from disuse, causing him to blink a few times. “What was that?”

”You’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” she says softly, lowering herself to his level. “I think you have more questions for me than that though, don’t you?”

”I—I want to go home. Please, Death. I survived limbo, I did everything you asked—”

She presses a finger to his lips. “Soon, Ranboo, I promise. Let’s just talk first.”

“About what? I—I can’t remember what to talk about.”

”And that’s why you can’t go to the Overworld just yet. You don’t remember,” Death averts her eyes. “And, some of the changes I made to accommodate your limbo will probably persist too…”

”You made? You?” Ranboo’s voice cracks, and he staggers to his feet. His hands curl into shaking fists. “Why? I died so many times, I lost everything, over and over, why—!”

Death bows her head, moving into an upright position. For a moment, Ranboo’s shortness provokes him into thinking that she’s going to try overpowering him, killing him once and for all, but…

Nothing happens. She just stands there, watching him with oddly coloured eyes that probably match his own in their peculiarity. The anger slips from his body, but it still persists in the darkest recesses of his mind, hidden and poised.

”I know, Ranboo. Usually, limbos are out of my control. I may be Death, but I don’t control everything that happens after it,” she begins. “With you, knowing that my family loved you so much, I wanted to give you an option at revival. To do that requires great energy, so…”

”So? It still doesn’t make all that pain I endured go away,” Ranboo mumbles, swallowing thickly. When did he get so ballsy as to start arguing with a God?

”I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, dear. Rather than trying to kill you, the animatronics were meant to help you,” she then shakes her head. “Then that Afton had to get involved through Vanny—which wasn’t meant to happen either, but that’s an entirely different story.”

Ranboo’s brows just furrow, and his mouth sets into a firm line. Isn’t this woman meant to be Death? How can she be so flawed?

”…what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry, Ranboo. I never expected any of it to happen,” her voice begins to waver and he shakes his head.

”No, no—I’m sorry won’t cut it,” he cries, voice shaking. “You’re Death! How could you be so oblivious as to not notice?”

She just shakes her head whilst Ranboo breathes shakily. He just pushes the anger down. There’s time to be angry later, he thinks, and he knows what he really does want to ask.

”What happened to them all? I know they weren’t just machines, Vanessa told me.”

Looking taken aback for a moment, Death closes her mouth before deciding what to say. “Vanessa and the animatronics were all killed—or, at least in some way influenced—by Afton. They’ve been through multiple limbos, and this was their final chance before the Abyss took them. I decided to make your limbo theirs too.”

”They were unaware of it though. It was easier that way, but I did lose one of them to the Abyss,” Death frowns. “The same thing was going to happen to you if Vanny killed you. That’s how risky your limbo was.”

Frustration freezes him in place, but he just focuses on his breathing. In, out, in out. All he needs to do is listen and then, he might be able to see Freddy and Bonnie again. His chest warms at the prospect. Anything he learns here he can ponder later.

”The rest have now passed on. Or, in Afton’s case, gone back to where the rest of him lies. He won’t come back this time,” Death smiles to herself, perhaps out of victory over such a persistent thorn in her side finally being gone, at least for now.

”All of them?” Ranboo pales. “What about Bonnie and Freddy? I—I need to see them again—”

Death shakes her head, and then the void flashes white again. For a moment, he feels like he’s about to throw up from the flashing lights, but it dissipates upon seeing two figures in the distance. Even if his body protests, Ranboo doesn’t care.

He’s probably laughing, he’s probably smiling, but he gets wrapped into a hug anyway. Ranboo looks up at them after they let go, and it’s his…friends? To him, they offer some affection beyond that, but in an almost parental way. He knows he’s felt that way around Freddy before, but not Bonnie.

The fact he’ll have to leave them settles heavily in his gut. He looks back to Death who just smiles, but he doesn’t want to anymore.

”’Ey, kid, what’s the matter?” Bonnie says, crouching down to his eye-level with Freddy following suit.

”I—…I don’t want to go, but I do. I know I have my family back in my world…” Ranboo trails off. He doesn’t know how to describe it. There’s a conflict raging inside him, stray shots hitting off the side of his skull.

”If you want, I could do something that might help your problem,” Death cuts in, walking closer. “Ranboo, I know your conflict, but you know that the Overworld wouldn’t cope with advanced technology like those two.”

He nods, eyes falling to the void below him. He doesn’t want to let go.

”But I have a solution, for all of you,” she continues. “If they’re not machines, but instead ghosts, they can go wherever you want. Including the Beyond, so they can still see their friends.”

All three of them nod at each other, breaking into smiles. Ranboo then starts to feel lightheaded in the middle of a hug, causing him to almost trip over himself.

”Oh—I suppose that’s your time up, Ranboo. It might hurt, and there might be some side effects, but it’ll be okay, I promise,” Death squeezes his shoulder and he gives a little smile. She returns it, if only for a moment. 

His senses dull, and the last thing he hears is Freddy exclaiming something about seeing him soon, and a feeling he’s only ever felt once before tears him apart and then rebuilds him from the molecule up again.

It burns, but Ranboo doesn’t feel it for long. The void pulses white, and then he’s falling.

Chapter Text

Can you hear me?

He floats in the darkness, adrift and aimless. Nothing but him. For a moment, he was falling, flying maybe, in a white void honed by Death to take him home. Now, he’s back where he began in a warm blackness. 

He doesn’t know if he even exists anymore. Maybe there was some fluke in taking him to the Overworld—some mistake that Death apparently was partial to—and in the process, she’d torn him apart limb from limb, particle from particle, until all that remains of him is his meagre sentience, barely more than a fleeting spark in comparison to the overwhelming darkness. 

He can’t remember anything either. Only blurs and ambiguity flitter through his empty brain, if he even has that anymore. He feels like nothing, so perhaps he is one with it, and the process of becoming such is just excruciatingly slow. 

Perhaps, it wishes to mock him. Taunt him for being so foolish as to think he could be revived. The childish naïveté he still sustained, even in spite of all his experience. At the end of it, that’s all he was, is and will be—a mere child, forced to grow up too fast through the absence of parents in the hostility inherent to the End. Once, he might’ve even been a Prince, but then he was cast aside. As always. 

He’s always been lonely, but the emptiness to wherever he drifts is far more isolating. There’s no semblance of life here, everything besides him is null. Useless. It feels a lot more fitting than it ought to, and he doesn’t even know if he even counts as life. He certainly doesn’t feel like he is. 

There’s no heartbeat in his chest, there’s no in, out, in, out of his breaths, there’s no pulse in his wrist. This lack of life is certainly Death, but this isn’t the Abyss. In the Abyss, he could breathe, feel, touch. Here, there’s nothing. Just the darkness, and even that doesn’t feel of anything. Instead, it has no end, and maybe it’s expanding eternally, like some small scale universe that he will slowly become one with.

Were you ever separate in the first place?

He doesn’t know if he can answer that. There’s no thought that immediately comes to mind in rebuttal, but he can’t think much as it is, so it’s not much in helping him answer. He doesn’t even know why he feels compelled to—it’s just another passing thought that, like him, will be lost to this dead void sooner rather than later. 

Everything comes from the same thing. A warm place—perhaps inside their mother, perhaps not—where their consciousness develops until they push themself into hostile reality. You were the same, and thus, we are not separate.

For some reason, the presence poking at his mind feels so very familiar. Maybe from a distant, fading memory is where they lurk, slipping away from him just like the sands of time. They are not him, but they feel like him. Whether malicious or not, right now, they just press at whatever he is, maybe putting him back together.

Yet, he cannot imagine their appearance despite from how familiar they feel. If he knew their name, there could maybe enough fuel to start the fire of remembrance, but their prodding at his mind feels meticulously intentional, tearing away only what’s necessary. It’s painful, but in the eyes of this presence, it must be more important they remove whatever it is than how he feels. Briefly, he wonders how they are doing so—are they that powerful? And perhaps, it might be for protection, but why?

I worry that you know too much, dear. Once you go home, you’ll be free from this knowledge.

If he could express confusion, he might’ve, but from how the presence seems to shift, they must’ve noticed the swarming questions in his mind. With the presence in his brain, he can feel his mind shuffling away from the cusp of emptiness, if slowly. Other things do seem to slip away—if at the hands of his poor memory, or the presence, he doesn’t know—but to ground himself, he might’ve reached out into the void if he could.

The prodding on his brain then recedes completely, but the pressure from it only tightens. It’s akin to being pushed to his limits until he’s on the brink of snapping and never returning to what he once was, maybe like a worn out rubber band. He wishes he could speak to the presence, get to know them a little more in some bid to sate his curiosity, but he doesn’t have a mouth. The only thing he does have is thoughts, but he doubts they can hear that. Even if they are in his head.

If anything, he just wants to go home, if only to get a reprieve from the darkness, probably licking at whatever skin he has to get underneath and to taint his brain. Not that it would do anything—he feels like he’s already at rock bottom enough for it to be pretty much useless. (Just like you.)

Then, it feels like he’s being blanched in boiling water for a moment that lasts far too long, but then it stops. He wonders why, but then—

Allow yourself to breathe. In, out, in, out. One, and then another.

Upon those words imprinting on his brain, he feels the life given to him by the presence grant him physicality. His form returns—even at the cost of it feeling off—and he gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. Somehow, the void falls apart around him, and within a blink of an eye, it gives way to the familiarity of the prison.

Something about the prison seems weird too, perhaps disturbed, but not breached as the prisoners had already escaped long ago. At least, it feels like a long time, but he can’t really tell. He remembers something about limbo’s time being much longer compared to anywhere else, but he’s never been one to trust his memory. 

He can’t—or, at least bring himself to—trust himself, either. Not after limbo, not when…

Allow yourself to feel again. The breath in your lungs, the grass beneath you, the sky above you. It’s all me, and it’s all you.

As the presence rings in his dulled ears, oxygen breathes life back into something that should’ve been dead. It travels through his bloodstream to each of his cells, everything in his body moving from its previous standstill. His fingers twitch before they curl into fists around the grass below him, perhaps some unconscious action to ground himself to this reality. His reality. His home.

A stray blade of grass tickles his nose, causing it to scrunch up. His body—as tired as it is—begins to fully rejuvenate itself, and with each breath, his eyes inch themselves open. The air is so much cleaner, so much less oppressive than that of the PizzaPlex, or the lack thereof in the Abyss.

His chest strains with each expansion, but his lips contort into a small smile at how he feels safe. Sure, he’s right where he died—in a puddle of dried purple blood, no less, and the sight of that colour makes him want to puke—but there’s no foreseeable threat. For now, there’s only him. There’s nothing inching closer in the undergrowth, watching and waiting. He’s no prey to some invisible predator.

He might not like loneliness, but here, it’s comforting—a relief, even, and he’ll bask in it for as long as he can. It’s not the only thing he basks in.

In that moment, he eyes the sunlight filtering onto his face. He sighs deeply—even if the sun causes him to squint—and the feeling is perhaps the best he’s ever felt. Somehow, it breathes more life back into him, and then, he’s pushing himself onto his feet. It’s a shaky foundation—by Ender, his whole body spasms occasionally—but the small victory is enough.

Until it isn’t.

The pressure on his mind suddenly loosens, causing his knees to buckle. Any sense of accomplishment gets knocked right out of his chest, and his lungs burn. Only then does he remember the wounds, for their throbbing flares tenfold, and he wants to scream. Why would the presence do this to him? He did nothing wrong, he only wanted help for once in his life—

He wants to know what—who they are—too, but they won’t answer, nothing ever does! If they did, he wouldn’t have endured limbo for so long. Anger warms his veins, returning from the depths of his consciousness, but then, he’s suddenly so, so cold.

I can’t tell you. You know that, I’ve seen it from your mind—but now, I must go. Remember that you are loved, and that I’m sorry.

His lip wobbles a little, but he doesn’t know why. He’s getting sick of hearing apologies too, and the one from the presence feels just as fake as the rest. Regardless, any contempt he has is pushed back into those dark corners, because despite hardly knowing who they are, their departure feels like the loss of something important. A person, a belonging, he doesn’t know, but it hurts. Even if it shouldn’t.

Ranboo’s chest pangs, and there it is—his name. With the presence fading, his mind brims with activity, including memories and thoughts. Clutching onto a nearby tree, he attempts to steady himself, but his vision swims.

Through his blurred vision, Ranboo can see civilisation, even buildings he recognises, but it all appears…lifeless. He wonders if there’s been another war, or maybe that Tubbo had fired his nukes, but the air feels still for a different reason.

He just doesn’t know why, but he wants to. Subconsciously, as the desire to see his friends and family again pools in his gut, Ranboo’s feet begin to move. He’s only jerked from it when he catches a glimpse of his left arm.

It’s not cloudy white. It’s not snowy white. It’s not even papery white!

It’s pale, but Builder. So, so Builder, and Ranboo’s stomach lurches. Is he still the same? Is he still a child? Would anyone even recognise him—

In, out. In, out.

A glance at his right arm relieves him. Night black—that’s what it is. He might be some weird amalgamation between Builder and Enderman, child and adult, and it might feel very, very wrong, but…

He can deal with it. Or, that’s at least what he tells himself, because those physical wounds he’s gained will definitely linger for a while. Ender, the memories will—or will they? Ranboo doesn’t know anymore.

When half his body starts to burn, he grimaces. Looking up reveals a dark grey sky, unfurling its hatred upon the land below. A hiss leaves his mouth—vaguely akin to an Enderman’s—and the wrongness returns tenfold. He suddenly feels lightheaded and purple fills his vision.

A vwoop sound fills Ranboo’s ears momentarily, leaving him weightless and nauseous, but then he’s on his feet again, if only to stumble. He can’t remember anytime he’s ever felt so…affected by teleporting before. 

The fact he knows so little of why leaves his mind pondering to the point of extremities, feeding off of his anxieties. He’s breathing heavily, leaning against some tree, when he realises where he is.

Or, he says realises, but that’s not what it is. Ranboo recognises it, but he doesn’t know how. For some reason, it feels like the reason is on the cusp of his mind, but like something—or someone—is intentionally holding it away from him the more he presses. Even if it is familiar, the place is surrounded by people. 

It’s for him, he knows well enough. From the funeralwear, he can guess why. The realisation only causes his breathing to quicken, because if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d be down there, rather than letting them mourn someone who wasn’t actually dead. The expressions on their faces leave him further disconcerted, but he can’t bring himself to move.

At least when Tommy came back to life, he was stuck in prison. He couldn’t tell anyone until weeks after. Ranboo is here, watching his funeral even, but he can’t do it. When has he ever?

Seems like the retrospective wasn’t left in limbo, he thinks bitterly, slumping to the ground by the tree. Ranboo knocks his head against it, but his eyes meeting with a little Piglin’s—Michael, his mind screams—causes him to scramble to his feet and behind the tree.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

He always seems to forget how adamant kids are. 

Tubbo grits his teeth, hating how the rain manages to seep through his suit jacket—far too large to be his own, but he’ll never admit that—to the skin below, causing him to shiver. His ear twitches, but he knows he shouldn’t be focusing on trivial things like that. This is his husband’s funeral, and fuck, that information still hasn’t fully processed, even if it’s been two months since he died. He’s been busy finding Michael—fulfilling Ranboo’s wishes in the process—with Techno, and since then, he’s been living with Tommy, even if his friend was on the verge of spiralling himself.

They both were, but Tubbo couldn’t stay in Snowchester. Not anymore.

As soon as Ranboo died, the ghost wearing his face—masquerading as something they were not— would always appear in the corner of his eye, lingering like some bad smell. Everywhere he went, the ghost seemed to follow. Or, at least frequented as often as he did, at the exact same time. Tubbo knew why, even if he didn’t want to.

The ghost was some fragment of Ranboo, and obviously was drawn to the places his late husband used to go. Tubbo just wished it didn’t have to be Snowchester, the mansion, Michael’s room, or even the pathways winding around the little village. He hated the ghost more and more with every sighting.

So, when the ghost began to speak to him, his hatred only festered. His glances became arguments, because Tubbo was sick and tired of the lies. Ranboo wasn’t pathetic. Ranboo wasn’t a coward. He was so much more. For his ghost to gripe about it—to him, no less!

Well.

Well, he didn’t like that at all. 

So, he took it upon himself to make the damn thing pretending to be his husband go away. He tried ignoring them, even if his chest only tightened at seeing his not-husband. He tried cursing at them. He tried shouting at them.

But it never worked.

Until he limited their interactions with Michael.

Tubbo knew how apathetic the ghost was in comparison to their counterpart. For them to be around Michael simply scared him too much. What if they hurt him for fun? It was just too much of a risk.

Even if Tommy called him “cruel”—and that’s something he still can’t agree with—he persisted. It just so happened that Michael knew of them already. Instead of asking if Boo was coming back in relation to his late father, it soon meant his ghost instead and even if Tubbo started to interlace every conversation about them with venom, his son never relented. 

Tubbo supposes stubbornness is a trait the kid got from both of his parents. It didn’t make him any less frustrated. He had no outlet, except maybe the occasional conversation with Tommy—who Tubbo felt too scared to tell anything anyway, not when he was already declining mentally—and the once in a blue moon conversation with Techno when asked if he wanted to babysit. 

Both of them helped, but only a little. It wasn’t enough.

A hand tugging on his sleeve stirs him from his thoughts. Everyone still surrounds them, huddled around the grave. It’s a funeral that should’ve been organised months ago and Tubbo feels infinitely guilty for taking so long, but the rain only serves to dampen his mood, as well as whoever won’t leave him alone—

“…Bo?” Michael whispers once he’s got Tubbo’s attention, before pointing to the hill behind them. Tubbo shakes his head, bringing a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, but the Piglin only shuffles in place even more. He can’t have Ranboo’s funeral ruined—not like this anyway, so before anyone can notice, he picks Michael up.

”Bo!” the Piglin squawks, beginning to squirm. “Put me down, c’mon—”

“No, Michael,” Tubbo sighs, resisting the urge to massage his temples as if it’ll fight off the headache blooming behind his eyes. “Please just be quiet. You can tell me later.”

”But—”

”No buts,” Tubbo rolls his eyes, ignoring how the Piglin continues to try and break free of his grip. His grip only tightens in turn, but it feels like trying to keep some sort of feral animal in place. Tommy eyes him warily, causing Tubbo to give a strained smile in return as if the facade hasn’t already been broken. Finally, Michael stops moving, and Tubbo looks up in time to catch a glimpse of black and what appears to be white on the hill from the corner of his eye.

I swear if it’s that ghost coming to ruin things again, Tubbo thinks bitterly, tsking under his breath. Tubbo lets Michael free, allowing him to shove his hands in his pockets. By now, he’s all but filtered out the speeches anyone was making and it hangs heavily in his gut. So much for being a good husband, huh?

When everyone starts to part, Tommy motions for them to leave too, but Tubbo shakes his head. Briefly, his friend mouths why, but Tubbo just waves him off. Tommy returns it—if hesitantly—but Tubbo’s already crouched down and talking to Michael at that point.

”What was that, Michael?” Tubbo sighs. He hates having to tell his kid off, but he wouldn’t let Ranboo down anymore by having his final send off ruined. “Y’know this was a very important day to Bo, so—”

”But I saw Boo!” Michael cuts him off excitedly, smiling, but Tubbo doesn’t share his happiness. Instead, he grimaces, facial features all jagged edges. His gaze seems sharper too, but the Piglin doesn’t even notice. He just keeps rambling about “alive Boo”, and it’s just too much.

“Stop!” Tubbo snaps, stomach lurching. “P—please, Michael. For Bo.”

Michael’s jaw snaps closed, causing Tubbo to cover his mouth. He scrambles to his feet, wide-eyed. “Michael, I’m so sorry, I’m just…so stressed—”

”It’s okay!” he smiles, running up to hug Tubbo’s leg. “I swear I saw Boo though, he looked really scared, and like Uncle Tommy too!”

Now, that confuses him. Ranboo—or even his ghost—looking like Tommy? The two of them don’t look remotely similar, but from whatever glimpse he saw, maybe it’s not as outlandish as he thinks. Either way, he can’t help but want to chalk it up to a trick of the light, the boy’s imagination, or…

A twig snapping from behind him causes Tubbo’s head to whip around. He silently motions for Michael to stay where he is as he reaches for his sword. His knuckles go white from gripping it so tightly, and turning the corner reveals—

”R—Ranboo?!” Tubbo cries, staggering backwards. This…thing, it can’t be his husband. It’s not the ghost either. Michael laughs in his ears about being right, but all he can focus on is this fake.

Ranboo was never black and pale. Ranboo was always black and white. Ranboo was never average in his height. Ranboo was always freakishly—if endearingly—tall. His husband was all gangly limbs and awkwardness, but this…

This thing looks like it’s been through hell and back. It’s covered in wounds, all fresh and probably throbbing. The grip on his sword tightens and he pushes down a sob when he brings it up to its throat.

”Bo, what are you doing?!” Michael cries, pulling on his trouser leg. The sodden suit—gods, why did he have to wear something so big—hangs at his ankles from the rain, and Tubbo glances at the thing, if only for a moment. 

Those eyes…they’ve seen so much. They’ve seen him, vulnerable, happy, downright miserable…but always there. 

His sword slips from his hand.

The rain seems to pour even harder as he does so, and distantly, he can hear the sizzling of skin. Tubbo goes slack when Ranboo wraps his arms around him. Even though he looks so starkly different, it’s still him. He has the same warmth, the same ability to make him putty in his hands…

Tubbo doesn’t even know if it’s tears or the rain streaming down his face.

When they part from the long hug, Tubbo pales at the state of his husband’s body. From how torn his clothing is, he can see just about every wound. Shakily, he raises his hand to graze his husband’s neck, heart hammering in his chest. His fingers barely touch the several angry handprints overlapping there, leaving Ranboo’s neck black and blue alongside dried purple blood, but he jerks away nevertheless. 

Tubbo’s hand falls to his side, and he looks up at his husband. There’s not much height between them anymore.

”What happened to you, Ranboo?” Tubbo chokes, swallowing the lump in his throat. It’s starting to edge on darkness now, and his stomach churns.

”I—I wouldn’t know where to start,” Ranboo says hesitantly, running his fingers through Michael’s hair subconsciously. “Except the fact I died over and over and—shit, ‘m sorry, I said too much—”

“No, no,” Tubbo breathes, placing a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder in some attempt to ground him before he slips into a panic attack. “It’s okay, Ranboo. You’re safe now.”

Ranboo nods, even if Tubbo can feel him shaking. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water momentarily, but no frantic words tumble out. Instead, the three of them resign themselves to quiet understanding of their closeness. 

“I—” Ranboo says finally, but Tubbo draws his hand away, cutting him off.

”You don’t have to explain it all now, Ranboo,” he reassures, and his husband seems to relax a little. “Just do it when you’re ready.”

“O—okay,” he mumbles, before averting his eyes. Tubbo wonders why, at least until he realises what Ranboo’s looking at. Michael meets their gazes, smiling up at them, but upon looking back at Ranboo, his husband’s breath only hitches.

“You got him back,” he chokes, voice wavering, almost as if the realisation just hit him.

Tubbo nods. “Me and Techno did. Sam got what he deserved too. I wasn’t going to let him get away with hurting my family anymore.”

”Thank you,” Ranboo mumbles into Tubbo’s hair, having been brought into another hug. He rubs at the stray tears running down his face. “At least then I didn’t die for nothing.”

”You’re a lot more than nothing, Ranboo. Both me and Michael think that, don’t we?” Tubbo laughs, parting from their hug to pick Michael up. He shoves him in Ranboo’s face, causing him to swat the Piglin away playfully. Noticing how blue his husband’s lips have gotten, Tubbo frowns. 

“I think we should get home to Snowchester now, huh?” he asks, and Ranboo meets his solemn gaze with a grin. It looks a bit pained, but he’ll just have to help fix his husband up later. There’s nothing a good first aid kit can’t do. 

With Michael on Ranboo’s shoulders, the three of them take their walk back home gradually, but in comfortable silence. If Tubbo notices his husband’s shaking in what must be excitement, he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t be surprised if it caused the guy to turn red out of embarrassment, even if Tubbo said aloud how he found it endearing.

Ranboo’s glad to be home. Sure, he hasn’t seen any of his other friends yet, but for now, he has his husband and kid. Some part of him—probably retained from limbo—still reels from having to settle back into the caregiver role rather than the one being cared for. 

He knows that, in time, he’ll get better. With Tubbo and Michael and everyone else too, he’s sure he won’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.

Though, that’s not to say the whereabouts of Freddy and Bonnie don’t linger in the back of his mind. Ranboo hopes that they didn’t struggle as much as he did with getting home—or, at least whatever that is for them, if anywhere.

His question gets answered when the room suddenly flashes white, instinctively causing him to shield his eyes. Tubbo—previously cooking in the kitchen—pokes his head around the corner, only for him to gawk at the newcomers. He rushes up to them, eyeing them warily.

They—in turn—gaze at a still stunned Ranboo, and Tubbo just crosses his arms. With a prod to his forehead, Ranboo stirs, blinking blearily.

”Mind telling me who the fuck these two are?” Tubbo accuses, causing Ranboo’s eyes to widen. He pushes past him—if weakly—and hugs the two of them. Upon turning back around to a scowling Tubbo, he smiles sheepishly.

”They’re Bonnie and Freddy!” Ranboo exclaims, chest a little lighter. “I—I met them in limbo, but all of us looked different then.”

The two of them nod in agreement, and Tubbo just shrugs, only for his nose to wrinkle at the smell of smoke. “Shit, my cake!”

With that, he promptly disappears, causing Ranboo to laugh. For the first time in ages, he feels truly relaxed. There’s no tension in his muscles, nothing poised to act. He’s just him, happily existing with his…family. Sure, two ghosts, a Piglin, a ram and whatever Ranboo is might be pushing unconventional to the extremes, but all he knows is that it makes him happy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He just hopes that things will stay like that.