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Chapter Text

On Monday afternoon, Cassie was really tired from school and she had a lot of homework. Foggy sat and watched her puzzle over her books, writing in the answers to equations and then erasing them and writing in new ones once she’d had a chance to think them over. Foggy wanted to help, he didn’t mind math. But he supervised from where he sat on her school bag and that was good enough.

On Tuesday, Cassie had her after school club and Maggie called up the stairs as Cassie was brushing Foggy’s hair. 

“Cassie, time to go!”

Cassie grabbed her bag and her little red hoodie and dashed out of the door.

On Wednesday, Foggy sat on the kitchen table and watched Maggie sew. Cassie loved to watch her work. And Foggy was especially interested in this project too, seeing as it was for him.

“A pink shirt! With real buttons! And a — a green tie. No, a red tie. No, um—”

“I have this.” Maggie delved into her wicker box of fabrics and emerged holding a little square of fabric. Cassie peered at it and Foggy tried to sneak a peek at it.

Oh, it was cute! Pink, with a repeating pattern of green cartoon avocados.

“Would this do?” 

“Yeah!”

Foggy waited, watching Maggie sew. She picked him up a few times, lifting him and wrapping strips of fabric around him to get a feel for his measurements. Finally, she set the clothes down on the table.

Cassie watched eagerly until Maggie finally set a bundle of clothing on the table.

“Here we go. Hope it fits okay. Better than him being naked.”

Foggy blushed. Okay, he’d been naked for a while but it wasn’t like that was his fault. He’d been bought from a thrift shop. 

“OMG!” Cassie had inherited her father’s enthusiasm. “This is awesome!! Thanks, Mommy.”

“Any time, Cassie. You can dress him while I look over your homework.”

Cassie dressed Foggy carefully, and was even nice enough to show him his reflection in the back of a teaspoon.

“What do you think, Foggy?” she said breathlessly. “Did my mom do a good job?”

Foggy looked at his reflection and had to hold in a gasp. A small, plastic troll doll gazed back at him. The troll had a goofy beaming face, bright blue eyes and a shock of yellow hair that stood straight up like the flame of a candle. That was familiar, that was Foggy. But his clothes.

The green suit jacket had gold snaps to fasten it closed. Full-length pants in the same colour. A salmon pink shirt, held in place by a thin strip of velcro. And the tie. A ribbon of colour working down his shirt, dotted with tiny avocados.

If he could have cried with joy, he would have. Instead, he settled for the biggest, dopiest grin of delight that a troll doll could have. 

I love it, Cassie. Thank you.

Marci was impressed.

“I had my reservations, Foggy Bear—” Why she called him a bear was anybody’s guess. He was a troll, not a teddy! “Mainly because I question that woman’s sense of style; but I think Maggie did a good job with your suit.”

“Didn’t she?” Foggy twirled around, showing off the suit from every angle. Marci had a huge pink closet of clothes. But Marci was a Barbie doll and looked amazing in everything she wore.

“You look sharp. You’ll knock the socks off the toys at Cassie’s dad’s house.”

“Her dad? Why would  — hang on. Is she going to stay with him?” 

Marci dragged an oversized brush through her hair. “You didn’t hear? She’s spending the weekend at his place. She told her mom she was going to bring you.”

“But she always takes Karen!”

Karen the ragdoll was great, so Foggy couldn’t begrudge her that.

“I know, but she said she wants you. That’s what I heard, anyway.”

Wow. A vacation. Foggy couldn’t wait.

Friday

Okay, so Cassie’s dad was awesome. Foggy had never seen him before, but he had heard stories. Nothing compared to the actual man.

Scott Lang was cool. He hugged Cassie and swung her around and helped her stow her pink suitcase in the trunk of his car. Cassie insisted on Foggy riding in the car with her, and he was grateful for that: he didn’t want to be locked in a suitcase for the journey.

“Huh, what a cutie. What’s her name?”

“He’s a boy, and his name is Foggy.”

”Well, Foggy won’t be alone at my place, I’ve got tonnes of toys for you guys to play with.”

Foggy’s ears pricked up. Did he? That wasn’t so unusual, he supposed. He’d met plenty of Funko Pops in his time and they were owned by adults.

Maybe this would be good for him. He could make some new friends…

Scott’s toys were just as eccentric as he was. Bright plushies who spoke with accents Foggy didn’t recognise. Weird hero figurines who monologued endlessly but didn’t seem to do much else.

Foggy didn’t want to be awkward, but he didn’t know these toys and had little in common with them.

The toys threw a party in his honour under Scott’s bed as soon Scott and Cassie went out to dinner. Foggy suspected that these crazy toys just wanted an excuse to party. They all looked very new and he assumed that Scott had bought them so Cassie would have something to play with when she visited.

At least they were nice. He helped himself to a massive plastic apple, holding it in both hands and gnawing at it.

“Enjoying the party?”

Foggy stopped chewing and looked up. 

A Ken doll towered over him, but his smile was friendly.  He was tall and gorgeous with dark hair, flawless skin and a perfect white smile. He wore a dark grey suit with a red tie, and a pair of circular red sunglasses hid his eyes.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess. The crowd’s wilder than I’m used to.”

“Mm, Scott’s toys are a handful. Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?”

Scott had a CD player and the toys delighted in blasting dubstep in his bedroom. 

“Yes, definitely.” Foggy nodded. He hoped the toys would have the sense to kill the music when they heard Scott’s car approaching the apartment.

“I’ll carry that for you if you want.”

“Oh, thanks!” Foggy passed the apple up to the doll, who cradled it in both arms.

“My name is Matt Murdock.”

“Foggy Nelson.”

They took a walk over Scott’s bed, hiking across the bundled blankets. 

Matt easily crossed the distance but Foggy’s smaller legs struggled to keep up.

“Sorry. I’m not used to having company.” Matt stopped where he was, waiting for Foggy to catch up with him. “Let’s sit down for a bit.” 

They sat down on a soft, squishy pillow. Holy shit, the Ken’s legs could bend. That’s so cool, Foggy thought. Marci and the other Barbies he knew had rubber legs.

The doll pulled his leg up over the other, gently clasping his ankle.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“How many points of articulation do you have?”

Foggy had none himself but he wasn’t shy about asking Matt. It was a common question that toys would ask each other and was often used for bragging rights.

Matt ducked his head. “Nine,” he said as if it was no big deal. His nonchalance only made him ascend in Foggy’s admiration.

Foggy whistled, impressed. “Awesome.”

“So, Foggy. What are you?”

“Subtle, Matt. I’m a troll, can’t you tell?”

“Wow, really? With, the, uh, with the…hair, right?”

“Yup. What, is this your first day meeting a troll?”

Matt laughed and it sounded uneasy. “I should just get this over with, shouldn’t I? I’m blind, Foggy. So, no, I can’t see that you’re a troll. Is that okay?”

Foggy gaped at him but his brain eventually kicked into gear and he nodded. “Shit, yeah, of course, that’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise, I thought you were teasing me or something—”

“It’s fine. It actually is my first time meeting a troll, so, uh…” Matt threw him a jazz hand, pleadingly. “This might sound weird, but can I touch your face? I’d really like to feel the shape; I’ve only ever seen trolls in pictures, and that was before I lost my sight…”

“I…don’t know.”

Foggy was really enjoying talking to somebody new but he hoped Matt wouldn’t be put off by his bulbous features and unusual hairstyle.

“I guess. Yeah, okay.” Matt seemed cool and certainly not like one of those snobby Mattel dolls who thought that anybody who wasn’t a tall skinny doll was lame. He could do this.

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. His hands settled on Foggy’s cheeks with a gentle clink of plastic on plastic. Foggy glanced down. Matt’s hands cupped Foggy’s face perfectly as if they’d been moulded with this goal in mind.

“Big cheeks like a chipmunk,” Matt commented.

“Hey!”

“No, it’s good.” His fingers tapped down one cheek to Foggy’s nose. “And that’s a button nose.”

“Yeah. I have a ragdoll friend, her nose literally is a button.”

“Ha. Hmm, big eyes. Sorry, I think I just poked your eyeball—”

“Yeah, you did, but it’s fine.”

“What colour are your eyes?”

“Blue. Two blue eyes.”

“I bet they’re pretty,” Matt said. “They’re glass, not plastic. That’s interesting.”

“They look even better when my Cassie polishes them on her sleeve. Sparkly. What colour are yours?”

“Brown,” Matt said shortly. His fingers were exploring the curve of Foggy’s eyelids now.

“Can I see your eyes?” Foggy said eagerly, thinking of beautifully painted doll eyes. Brown, with eyelashes and maybe a white twinkle drawn in the centre of the pupils. Marci had actual eyelashes glued to her eyes. She enjoyed fluttering them.

“No. Sorry,” Matt said. 

Foggy leaned back and Matt’s hands slipped from his face. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable with that. Maybe later.”

“It’s fine.” He took a risk, picking up Matt’s slim, elegant hands in his four-fingered paws. He returned Matt’s hands to where they’d been resting only seconds before. “You don’t have to show me your eyes. Or tell me anything that you don’t feel like sharing. But feel free to get your feelers all over this face.”

“Thanks,” Matt smiled. His hand traced the line of Foggy’s wide mouth and then up to his jug ears, and when his fingers brushed Foggy’s hairline, he inhaled. “Your hair. Can I…?”

“We’ve got this far, haven’t we?”

Matt made a small sound when his fingers slid into Foggy’s hair. 

“It’s not silky like Barbie hair,” Foggy warned him.

“It’s so textured,” Matt said, delighted. “And wiry! How tall is it?”

“It’s about as tall as I am,” Foggy confessed.

Matt swore under his breath and it made Foggy feel like preening.

“What colour?” he demanded.

“Butter yellow, my friend.”

“You’re a blond.” His hands worked their way up the length of Foggy’s hair, smoothing it into its perfect point. “I like the feel of this.”

“I like your hair, too.” Matt had real hair, not painted on like some dolls. Cautiously, Foggy reached out to touch it and Matt let him.

His hair was thick and heavy, not like Foggy’s wispy, gravity-defying hair. It was weighted down with glue so he couldn’t run his fingers through it, but he enjoyed how the glue made it shine like Matt was underwater. He liked Matt’s face. Those lovely high cheekbones, the full reddish-pink lips and of course, those stylish glasses.

They were so reflective, that Foggy could see his own chubby, impish face. His smile faded. He was such a different toy to Matt. He drew his hands back.

Matt had been unnaturally still (as still as Foggy would be when a human was in the room), sitting, looking kind of zonked-out, just letting Foggy stroke his hair. But when Foggy stopped, he gave a little shake, seemingly getting back into himself.

“Once you’ve seen one Mattel doll, you’ve seen them all—” Matt said dismissively, and wow, Foggy was not going to allow his new friend to talk about himself that way.

“Hey, stop that. You are way better than that. You’re like, a porcelain doll. Something expensive and valuable.”

“And fragile,” Matt said bitterly. The sudden change in mood was like being caught in a downpour of rain. “That’s how they all see me. Scott’s toys. They see Blind Business Doll, Matt Murdock, and they think they have to babysit me or else a neighbour’s dog will run off with me in its mouth.”

“Oh, buddy, I’m sorry.” He hadn’t realised how hard it must be for Matt. At least Foggy never had to worry about being defective or less than perfect for a capricious child. Cassie wasn’t like that, she treasured all her toys. Foggy had never felt like his friends looked down on him for being a troll, and if he was honest, his insecurities were born from within. He sometimes felt like he didn’t measure up but that was because he was comparing himself to ‘exciting’ toys — action figures, beautiful fashion dolls, new gadgets. Who would want an old, silly troll? 

Cassie. He was her favourite toy, and she always made him feel special.

“I wish you lived with my kid. Cassie’s great, she makes every toy feel loved. She’d never look down on you. She’d probably, like, make you a cane or something so  you can get around.”

“I actually have a cane, I’ll show it to you sometime. I repurposed a lightweight paintbrush that came free in some magazine of Scott’s. It’s red, apparently, which is great because that’s my favourite colour.” And Matt flashed him a devastating smile that pushed the air from Foggy’s lungs.

“I’d like to see that. You know, um, I felt kind of weird about coming here. Scott’s toys are nice, don’t get me wrong, but they’re different to me. I don’t fit in here. But seeing you, getting to know you, it feels like—”

“We’re from the same set,” Matt said. His face was a joyous thing, a dollmaker couldn’t have drawn a happier face on him. “It feels like we were created with each other in mind, doesn’t it? We’re part of the same set, we’re meant to complement each other. We’re meant to share playtime.”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

 Matt grasped his hand and although his hand was smaller than Foggy’s, he squeezed with strength. Foggy squeezed back and they smiled at each other.

“Cassie, we can play for a little bit, then you gotta hit the hay. You can play with my toys, just don’t touch anything on that shelf, okay? Daddy’s hopin’ it’ll appreciate in value.”

“Okay.”

Playtime with Cassie. He’d had it before when she went on vacation with Maggie. He’d relish the rare moments of being the only toy around, in the hotel room. He was an adventurer, conquering new lands. Or flying through the air, held aloft by Cassie’s arms.

But now, he had playtime with a whole new group of people. Whenever Cassie left the bedroom to fetch items to add to the game, Foggy took the opportunity to talk to everybody. 

He met a zebra plushie called Stripey who was an absolute sweetheart and a little bird toy called Feeny. They helped him feel at ease.

“You’ll really like playtime over here. Scott gets really into it, he’s basically a big kid himself,” Feeny chirped.

“Yeah, and if you get stuck or scared, we’ll come and help you!” Stripey agreed. Foggy appreciated that they wanted to help him, he couldn’t help feeling nervous about interacting with new toys.

“Earthquake!”

The floor rumbled under their feet and Foggy flew through the air. He fell back on a pillow, and did his best to hide his grin. Cassie loved this game. 

She loved to play superhero games, and who else but her favourite toy could be the star?

“What are we playing?” Scott poked his head around the door of the guest bedroom. “Cops and robbers?”

“There’s an earthquake and Supertroll has to save everybody!”

The earthquake had a higher rictus level when Scott was involved. He pulled the sheets about, so that Cassie and the toys fell all over. Cassie giggled constantly, cradling Foggy in her arms.

“Oh no, that businessman has gotten trapped under some rubble! Can Supertroll save him?” Scott gasped, pointing.

Foggy squinted and saw a familiar pair of legs, protruding from the bottom of a cardboard box. Matt. He knew he wasn’t in any real danger, but it still shocked him to see Matt lying so still - as if he really was facing mortal peril.

“Supertroll, you have to save him!” Cassie squealed and leapt off the bed, racing to the box.

She flipped it over like it weighed nothing, holding Foggy up to give the illusion that he had moved it.

“Foggy, help me!” Scott cried, waggling Matt as if he was speaking.

With Cassie holding Foggy and Scott holding Matt, they saved the day. Foggy ‘flew’, carrying Matt to safety. When Cassie dropped them both down on the bed and wandered off with his father in search of refreshment, Foggy sidled over to Matt.

“Okay, so I’m kind of a superhero. In Cassie’s eyes, anyway.”

But when Matt turned to face him, Foggy saw his glasses were missing. His eyes were a pleasing shade of brown, just as Foggy had known they would be. But they were faded, as if somebody had tried very hard to rub the paint off.

Matt turned away.

“Oh, jeez, Matt, I’m sorry.  Your glasses—”

“I won’t be able to find them.” Matt’s voice was taut like violin strings. “I wouldn’t be able to see them if they were right in front of me. Scott will end up stepping on them, I know he will.” To Foggy’s dismay, Matt’s shoulders shook and he sounded like he was fighting sobs.

“Buddy, I’m sorry. I wish there was something we could do but…we’re toys. All you can do is hope Scott or Cassie finds them.”

“Not good enough,” Matt said quietly.

Matt said he wanted to be alone. Foggy had to respect that. He left him to it.

Foggy searched the bed, burrowing under the covers and feeling with his hands for anything that was small and plastic. Nothing. He searched under the bed, walking upright, nervously tugging on his hair when his skin touched cobwebs. No glasses. 

He could wait until the next day but he really didn’t want to. Matt was so upset. So, when Scott regretfully told Cassie that it was time for bed, Foggy hid.

He watched as Scott put Matt on a shelf. He didn’t appear to have noticed that he’d lost his glasses. 

Foggy felt terrible for hiding. Cassie was distressed at his absence but Scott did his best to reassure her that Foggy had probably just snuck out to see a movie and he’d be back in the room tomorrow morning. When Cassie finally managed to drift off, Scott crept in and had a half-hearted search, using his phone as a flashlight but he, too, admitted defeat and left to go to his own room. Foggy had been hiding in the cardboard box from earlier. 

Once he knew Cassie was deeply asleep, he was free to search as long as he liked. The only problem was that the room was in utter darkness and he wasn’t going to be able to reach the switch on the wall. Something clattered and Foggy jumped.

He hoped it was a toy and not, like, a rat. “Is anybody there?” he whispered. “Please don’t be a rat.”

Something rappelled down in front of him, suspended by a thin cord. Too big to be a spider — he hoped — but he leapt back, just in case.

“Not a rat, sorry to disappoint.”

“Who are you?”

It was a doll, dressed in black from head to toe. He yanked on the rope and it coiled down into his open arms. The rope was a shoelace with a strange sort of club attached to it.

It was impossible to tell what brand of toy he was. Foggy looked up at him fearfully and the doll laughed. 

“No need to be so scared. I heard you scampering around like a little mouse and thought I’d offer my assistance.”

Foggy was glad for the help but the mouse remark stung. He saw that the doll had swung down from a bookcase. He couldn’t be afraid of heights, pulling a stunt like that.

“I’m looking for a pair of glasses for my friend. A specific pair. They’re missing.”

“Does he need them to see? I’d hate to think of some poor toy tripping over in the dark.”

“No, but…he really needs them.”

“Okay.” The doll stretched and his joints clicked. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you use your rope-club-thing to get up there?” He pointed but the doll didn’t turn.

“Where?”

“The nightstand. There’s a nightlight on it. If you can get up there, you can switch it on and we’ll have a bit of light to work with.”

“Oh. Fine.” The masked doll swung his shoestring around and gave a grunt of satisfaction when it wrapped itself around the nightlight. He tested its strength and then abseiled easily up the nightstand, walking steadily as if he was just taking a stroll along the ground.

“Showoff,” Foggy muttered, and he could have sworn he heard a little laugh in reply.

He listened for the click and then saw the faint beam spread out. The masked doll stood, one boot still on the switch, and his silhouette blocked out some of the light. Foggy waved at him and the doll climbed down the nightstand. Foggy wondered how he’d done it until he noticed that the nightstand had drawers, and they were ajar. The doll had climbed them like steps.

“If you knew the drawers were there, why did you abseil up?”

“Seemed more fun.”

“Fun, right. Well anyway, thanks. You can go back to skulking around or whatever it was you were doing.”

“Think I might stay with you, for the time being,” the doll said, to Foggy’s surprise. “I can help you find the glasses for your little friend.”

“He’s not little. And I don’t need your help.”

“Alright. But if you want it, help’s here.”

“Ugh, fine. But we should be quiet. I don’t want to wake Cassie. The glasses are small, plastic and red. About the size of — well, actually, they’d fit your head, not mine. So bear that in mind.”

The doll responded with a cocky salute. Foggy rolled his eyes. They set off, staying close to the wall so that if Cassie did wake suddenly, she wouldn’t see them. Maybe I am a mouse, Foggy thought. The way I’m sneaking around like this.

“Your friend is a doll?”

“Yeah.” He saw something glittering in the fold of a rug and pushed it with his bare foot, but it was only a marble. He sighed. “And he’s heartbroken. His glasses disappeared during playtime earlier. If I don’t find them, he’ll be gutted.”

The doll made a sympathetic sound. “It’s terrible when a toy is parted from their accessories. It’s a loss of identity. Does he know you’re looking for them?”

“Nah. Didn’t want to get his hopes up.” He changed the subject. “So, tell me about the toys in this apartment?”

“Hmm, let’s see… Well, you’d think there wouldn’t be any, given that the apartment is owned by two men. But, luckily for us, they’re both immature, so… Scott has a few action figures. He also has a Taco Bell plushie from the early 2000’s, a little chihuahua. He’s fun. Luis has a few Funko Pops. They’re mostly okay but the Morrissey one’s a dick. Scott bought some plushies recently, so his kid would have something to play with when she visited him, but I don’t really know them well.”

“Funko Pops, got it. Um, you’re a hero doll, right? Like, an action figure? You’re wearing a mask.” Although now that he thought about it, the doll was looking kind of raggedy. His mask was frayed — in fact, his whole outfit was. The boots were plastic but everything else was black cotton. It looked homemade, and not made by somebody who knew how to sew, like Cassie’s mom.

“Yeah, I’m a hero doll. We’ve circled back. That’s the whole room. The glasses aren’t here, man.”

“No, they’re here, they have to be here, he’s going to be so disappointed—” He hit the skirting board with his hand and it made a soft thump. Cassie stirred, roused by the sound. The doll grabbed him, pushing him against the wall so the two of them blended in with the shadows. It was a tight space for a troll, and a doll, and Foggy squirmed.

“Let go.”

“No. She could have spotted us!”

“You’re such a jerk.” Something was digging into his foot. He reached for it. Something tiny and hard. Two small rods with little circles in between. “Hey, I got them!”

“Huh?”

“Matt’s shades! My friend’s missing glasses. Look! He’ll be so happy.” He tried to keep his voice down but he was so excited. And Cassie hadn’t made any more sounds so he figured it was safe.

“Do you know where he is?” 

It was a good question. “Cassie’s dad put him somewhere on one of the shelves. I won’t bother him now, he’s probably asleep.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate you going to the trouble of tracking those down,” the doll said gently. Foggy smiled up at him. Okay, so maybe this guy wasn’t so bad. The doll seemed like he was about to set off, but Foggy stopped him.

“Before you go. What’s your name?”

“I can’t really tell you that—”

“Yeah, no, I get that. Clark Kent and all that. I meant your hero name,” Foggy said coyly.

“Oh! Uh, I guess I, um, the man in the…mask?” He cringed as he said it and Foggy clamped a hand over his own mouth to stop the giggles.

“You don’t have one, do you? You’re swanning around in that get-up and you don’t even have a name. The man in the mask. Sounds like a ballet.”

The doll folded his arms. “Well, what do you suggest? It’s hard to think of a brand.”

“Uh, the Masked Doll. No, that sounds crap—”

“See! It is hard.”

“Okay, so you’re kind of a thrillseeker, right? Swinging around and jumping off stuff. What about Daredevil? Or — or Daredoll!”

“Daredoll makes me sound like a Barbie,” the doll said, scowling. With his height and muscular build, it was impossible to believe that anybody could mistake him for a girl doll. “But I like Daredevil. Thanks.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. See you later, DD!”

Saturday

Breakfast was fun until it wasn’t. 

Scott made waffles for everybody and Cassie was thrilled, but when Scott’s roommate Luis breezed in, he knocked a carton of orange juice over. Juice spread rapidly across the table, and Foggy could see it approaching but he couldn’t move. Moving with humans around would be the worst idea imaginable, so all he could do was lie on the table and feel the cold liquid sink into his clothes. His beautiful, new clothes. He lay there, listening to Scott rush about with napkins and Luis apologise ( don’t worry about it, Scotty, it’ll clean up good) and neither one had noticed that the troll was lying in a puddle of juice. But Cassie noticed.

“Oh no, Foggy!” she squealed and both men rushed to her.

“What is it? Oh, your doll.”

A big hand closed around him and he was lifted into the air. Scott’s eyes were very close.

“Hey, no worries. We’ll get him cleaned up.”

“He needs a bath!”

“Yeah—”

“And you have to wash his clothes!” Cassie insisted

“Okay—”

“Yeah, we’ll throw ‘em in the washing machine—” Luis said, but Scott shook his head.

“If we put them in there, they’ll relocate to wherever all my socks went to. You spilt the drink, you gotta wash the clothes.”

Foggy wasn’t sure he trusted a clutz like Luis to wash his clothes, but he had no time to think about that. 

Scott had filled the bathroom sink with warm water and set Foggy inside. 

“Cassie! I’m gonna let him soak for a few minutes!” and he left.

The temperature was pleasant and he bobbed in the water lazily, enjoying a moment of peace. Breakfast had been a hectic affair. He closed his eyes and was prepared to doze until he saw something small dart into the room.

“Matt?”

“Hi! Heard Cassie scream your name and I… I came to check you were okay.”

Matt had come to see him, he’d cared enough to want to check up on him. Foggy’s body felt like a plushie that had been overstuffed. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, he didn’t know they’d been found. Fuck. Foggy should have told him the second he’d located them. But Matt was here. Smiling, and in high spirits, despite not having the safety of his glasses. Foggy preferred that to the sad, silent man he’d seen yesterday. He hadn’t even wanted to show his face when his glasses disappeared. He’d been so upset. Foggy didn’t believe that Matt had adapted to the loss of his glasses in a mere few hours but he was beginning to realise that Matt was braver than he’d first assumed.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Wish you could hang out with me, buddy, but the sink’s too high — Oh!” For Matt had launched himself at the bath and climbed up a towel, and then swung his way to the sink.

Matt sat on a faucet and grinned proudly. “Not bad, huh?”

“That was amazing! How did you do all that?”

“I’m bendy,” Matt said smugly and demonstrated by lifting his leg over his head.

“Impressive. Care to take a swim? The water’s great.”

“Hm, probably wouldn’t be wise to totally submerge myself,” Matt said. “The screws in my joints will rust. But I think I’ll dip my toes in.” He pulled his shoes off and dangled his feet in the water. “So, what happened to you?”

Foggy told him. Matt was sympathetic. He was so sympathetic that Foggy felt like, maybe, he could tell him the real reason he had been so upset by the breakfast fiasco.

“I know I seem like I overreacted to some clothes getting stained. But the truth is… I’m a thrift shop toy.”

Matt frowned. “Okay. So?”

Foggy kicked his legs, appreciating the way the water rippled around him. “So… I don’t come with any accessories! When I was given to Cassie, I had nothing. She didn’t and still doesn’t know what kind of troll I am. That’s why she makes me a superhero in playtime. She doesn’t know any better.”

Matt considered that. “Well. What kind of troll were you meant to be?”

“I’m not telling you. You’ll laugh.” 

Matt begged him to tell, but Foggy remained resolute in his silence. 

They changed the subject, joking about the humans, and Matt told him some funny stories about Scott and Luis’s antics. Which reminded Foggy of something.

“Matt, I gotta ask. You don’t seem like a toy Scott would own. You’re not one of his action figures, you’re, like, a fashion doll—”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that. But you’re a Ken doll, you’re supposed to be with Barbies and Kens. Who are you, Matt Murdock?”

Matt fussed with his suit, straightening his lapels. “I was a gift for Cassie. Scott bought me a while ago. But when he saw the marks on my eyes, he thought she wouldn’t want me. He put me on a shelf and forgot about me. This playtime with you and Cassie, that was the first time in a long time that I’ve even been held.”

“Oh.” Why had he asked? He should never have pried. The past was still painful for Matt, that much was clear. “I’m sorry. Really. I… I never even thought—”

“I know you feel like you don’t fit in because you’re a thrift shop toy and you’re wearing handmade clothes—” How could he tell? Foggy wondered. “But Cassie really loves you. You have a kid who adores you. So you don’t have a cardboard box with your name and picture on it and a bunch of accessories. You’re her hero. That’s why she makes you Supertroll.”

He was right. Foggy had just been too foolish and self-pitying to see it.

“Thank you,” Foggy said. He felt better, having heard Matt’s words. “And you’re right. I love my handmade clothes. They show that my kid really cares. They’re new, her mom made them earlier this week.”

Matt smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah. Before I had them, I had to go naked!”

“You did?” Matt said, and coughed. “That’s…very interesting.”

Foggy had to admit that Luis did a great job with the clothes. He even gently blew them with a hairdryer and afterwards, nobody would have known that they’d been covered in orange drink and pulp.

Cassie put Foggy in her bedroom for safekeeping while she and Scott watched a movie. That was fine by Foggy. He could hang out with Matt again. Matt was overjoyed when Foggy presented him with the glasses.

“It wasn’t just me, I had some help,” Foggy told him, partly because he didn’t want to hog the credit and partly because he was bursting to tell him about Daredevil. But to his surprise, Matt either didn’t hear or ignored the comment. He was too intent on his glasses, carefully polishing them on his sleeve and then slotting them over his eyes. When he finished, he sat, with his hands resting on his knees.

“I think I’d be willing to tell you about how I lost my sight.”

“Oh, okay. If you feel ready.”

“Luis brought some of his family to the apartment, for a party. He had cousins, nieces, and nephews. There was a baby.” He smiled. “Cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Obviously, small in comparison to a human, but she was about fifteen inches taller than me and easily a hundred times heavier than me. And her mom was, I think, Luis’s cousin, and she was sitting with the baby. The mom was painting her nails but then she left to answer a phone call. She left the bottle of nail polish remover on the table. The bottle was pink.”

Foggy waited, sensing that Matt was speaking for himself and wasn’t wanting a reply.

“I think the baby saw it and liked the colour. She reached for it. I was sitting on the shelf in my box, Scott was planning to give me to Cassie later that week. But I punched out of the box and jumped down onto the couch. I barely had time to wrestle the open bottle away from her. I got a faceful of the stuff,” he said, grimly.

Foggy wasn’t sure what horrified him more: Matt letting a human see him move or the nail polish remover. He knew that acetone could strip the paint off a doll’s face. Those crazy humans who did ‘doll makeover’ videos often used that stuff in their grisly experiments.

He had no manual for what to say or do in this situation, but all he knew was that Matt was hurting and he didn’t want him to feel that way for a minute longer.

“You did what you had to do. You saved a human baby. You did more for her than any toy normally does for a kid.”

“Just didn’t want her swallowing chemicals,” Matt said gruffly.

“You did the right thing. You’re a hero, man. And that baby would have been lucky to have a toy like you.”

Matt smiled and threw an arm over Foggy’s shoulders, not caring that Foggy’s hair was dripping water on both of them. He gave Foggy a squeeze. “I’m not sure I’d want to be the toy for a baby. I’m delicate, remember? I’m, as you said, a fashion doll.”

“Shut up,” Foggy laughed. He sighed. “I hate that Scott rejected you like that. I think Cassie would have loved to get you as a present.”

“Never mind all that,” Matt said.“Tell me more about the degenerate troll who used to strut about naked?”

Foggy swatted at him. “It wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t naked for very long, smartass. Cassie tried making me clothes but (between us toys) she wasn’t very good at it. She cut up a pair of her stepdad’s socks to make me a t-shirt—” Oh, that was it. Daredevil’s clothes, the ragged cotton must have been cut from a pair of socks or something. Had he done it himself? They certainly weren’t made by a toymaker brand, he was certain. He was beginning to wonder if Daredevil was actually an action figure… “Um, anyway, she ended up finding a pair of shorts in the toybox and I wore those until her mom made me my suit.”

He was laughing when he said it, remembering the hideous sock-shirt that had dwarfed his small body - but when he looked at Matt, the doll wasn’t laughing. Matt’s face was as lovely as ever, but his eyes were wide and worried.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Foggy, there’s something I want to do and I’m… freaking out because I think it’s the wrong thing to do.”

“Just do it. There’s nothing you could do that would make me bug out. Honest.”

Matt leaned in and kissed him gently on the mouth. It was over as soon as it had started but it was absolutely perfect.

Foggy was relieved to be towel-dried by Scott and then dressed in his suit once more. Cassie picked him up to play with him, but Scott wandered in, holding his cellphone and told her that Mom wanted to say a few words. So Cassie left Foggy alone in her bedroom, and he immediately sought out Matt.

They took another walk along the bed and talked about pretty much anything that entered their heads. Matt joked that Foggy still smelt of orange juice. They compared suits and Matt tried on Foggy’s tie (Foggy couldn’t get Matt’s tie over his head, but he was able to use it as a hair ribbon) and finally snuggled down under the covers to chat some more until Cassie returned.

Matt was in a buoyant mood and his happiness was infectious. Foggy couldn’t stop smiling. Trolls were supposed to be smiley, so he figured that he was just fulfilling his life’s purpose by being so happy. Matt stroked Foggy’s hair, winding it around his wrist. “I wouldn’t mind having an owner like Cassie. She’s a good kid. But I get something better, don’t I? I get you. And we can make a home here.” He lifted Foggy’s hair to his mouth and placed a kiss on it. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re staying here, right? You’re not going to go back to Cassie’s mom’s house.”

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Well — We were. We have something. You can’t go now.”

“I have to. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about having to leave you, but I don’t see a choice. I’ve been doing a good job of not freaking out at the thought of saying goodbye to you, but Matt, we’ve only known each other since Friday. Cassie’s had me for years, she loves me. I can’t stay here, she’d miss me too much.”

“But you’re a toy,” Matt said incredulously. “Put a shiny bauble in front of her and she’ll forget all about you. It’s not nice but it’s life. That’s what kids do—”

“Not Cassie! She wouldn’t. You just wanna see the worst in everybody, don’t you? Look, I’m sorry Scott left you to rot on a shelf. That was fucked up. But he’s a grown-up, he doesn’t care about toys. Cassie sees things differently. I’m not saying I don’t feel a connection with you but I’m not going to throw away my home and my owner over this.”

“Noted,” Matt said, voice brittle. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.” He got up and walked away and Foggy watched him leave.

He was alone.

Cassie was playing with her dad, and Matt was nowhere to be seen. Foggy spent the evening hanging out with Scott’s other toys (Singing Let It Go with the Elsa Funko Pop and arguing about ethical meat consumption with the Morrissey one) until he heard Cassie saying goodnight to Scott and Luis

He made himself conspicuous, lying on her pillow so she’d spot him immediately. It worked; she cuddled him as she fell asleep.

He thought about Matt as he lay there. He wished he could make amends with him. He was clever, engaging, very brave and just absolutely the kind of toy Foggy would want to be friends with … or more.

That kiss had meant something. And Matt clearly liked him. But Foggy had unintentionally misled him and now they were both suffering. If only things could be different. But they were from two different households and Foggy’s presence here was on borrowed time. Tomorrow was Sunday. He was heading back that evening so that Cassie would have time to get a good night’s sleep for school on Monday morning.

He glanced at her sleeping face. She wouldn’t notice if he stole away for a little bit. He wouldn’t be gone for too long. He’d find Matt (he’d probably have to wake him up) and they could settle matters. Even if Matt didn’t want to be friends anymore, that didn’t mean they had to fight. He didn’t want Matt to think badly of him.

His mind made up, he wriggled out of Cassie’s arms and walked up her pillow over to the nightstand. He couldn’t see anybody on the shelves, but he wasn’t in an optimal position to see anything, really. He decided to risk it.

“Matt?” he whispered. “Are you up there?”

No reply and he didn’t dare to call any louder.

He still went for a walk. He might as well, he was already up. He passed through the rooms, poking his head in to see the guys. Scott was in his bedroom —  he’d fallen asleep in his street clothes. Blueprints littered the floor. Foggy wasn’t sure what he did for a living these days, he worked with some scientist, apparently. As long as he wasn’t breaking the law anymore.

Luis was napping on the couch with an empty pizza box on his lap.

Foggy entered the kitchen and was about to turn back towards the bedroom when he heard a rustling in the corner of the room.

“Matt?” he whispered hopefully. But it was unlikely, wasn’t it? There was nothing about Matt’s personality that suggested that he was the type to roam around the apartment at night. He was surely still hanging out on Cassie’s shelf, hating Foggy, cursing the fact that he’d kissed somebody who’d misled him, had disappointed him…

Foggy’s eyes prickled but no tears fell or would ever fall. He was a toy, he shouldn’t care about stuff like this. But he’d had plenty of friends in his life and what he had with Matt was something deeper. 

It occurred to him that as unlikely as it was that Matt would be taking a nighttime constitutional in the kitchen, there was somebody Foggy knew who liked to patrol the floor after sundown.

He squinted in the darkness. The rustling grew louder. The noise was still far too quiet to be a human so he felt quite safe in saying, “Daredevil, is that you? Come out and say hi, you creep.”

He saw something and at the same time, a thought occurred to him. The thought was that although Daredevil was a bit of a smug showoff, he wasn’t the type to intentionally frighten Foggy. If Daredevil had felt Foggy’s presence he definitely would have announced himself.

And the Something he saw was actually two Somethings. Two twinkling points in the darkness. Two wet, shiny eyes. But whoever it was had black eyes, because he couldn’t see the eyes themselves — all he could see were the twinkles. And whoever (or whatever) this thing was, it was running at him, at a fantastic speed.

Chapter Text

The dark shape rushed towards him, and as it got closer, he heard its laboured breaths. And when it got even closer than that, he saw the trembling whiskers that arced off its snout like bent guitar strings. And finally, when it stopped and stood over him, its black eyes studying him intently, he smelt the foul breath.

He knew what it was. He knew he should have run but his feet wouldn’t co-operate. The rat’s nose twitched and it would have been cute if Foggy had watched this at a distance, from a great distance, preferably. Foggy whimpered. It came up to head height. If you counted Foggy’s bouffant stream of blonde hair into the equation, he dwarfed the rat in height. But hair didn’t count. And what Foggy lacked in height, he…also lacked in strength. The rat’s body was thick with muscle and its back legs looked like tree trunks.

“Nice mousey…” Foggy mumbled, taking a hasty step backwards. The rat followed him, its nose twitching. “You’re not scary. You — you belong to the rodent family and you don’t like hunting animals, you p-prefer to eat seeds and nuts…” Cassie loved animals and had dozens of books about them. She even liked spiders and reptiles. The mice and rats in her books looked cute. But they were small and frozen in a photograph…not like this.

The rat suddenly butted his head against Foggy’s stomach and the little troll stumbled back from the force.

“Do you want me to move back? Give you room?” he stammered but the rat headbutted him again. It was pushing him, he realised. Forcing him through the kitchen and…

“That’s the catflap, I can’t go through there,” Foggy said weakly. The rat had gotten behind him now, pacing restlessly so that Foggy could not take a single step back. “That’s the catflap, that’s for cats, not rats. And not trolls, either.” But the rat nipped the air by Foggy’s ear and the meaning was clear. For some reason, a wild rat was forcing Foggy to leave Scott’s house. Cassie was upstairs, peacefully dreaming without her favourite toy. Foggy shivered in fear from another nudge of the rat’s wet nose. “Okay, I’m — I’m going.” He pushed the catflap and crawled through, into the darkness outside.

To Foggy’s horror, when he fell from the catflap onto the cold tile, he was joined by more rats. They looked identical to his original abductor and they moved seamlessly in one unit, their loathsome long bodies slinking down the lawn. Foggy was forced to follow them by the other rat. They led him in this fashion through a gap in the garden fence to an unfamiliar lawn. This lawn was not as well-kept as Scott’s and Foggy had to fight through weeds, just to keep a straight path. He kept his eyes peeled for any chance of escape, but it was no good. With one rat behind him, one on either side, and two in front, he had no way of breaking free. All he could do was beat a path through the weeds and hope that wherever he was headed, there would be help available.

This must be the neighbour’s house, Foggy realised, as he was bumped and pushed into a kitchen. He tried to look around and memorise as much as he could, but the rats were impatient, their greasy bodies shoving him from room to room. He didn’t know how long he was forced to walk until at last, they stopped. The dusty floorboards had changed to a musty carpet. Foggy peered through the gloom. A lone lamp was on, throwing out a sickly yellow triangle of light into the room.

He saw the vague dark shapes of chairs and a couch, and a mantelpiece hugging the wall. The fireplace looked dusty and unused but there was an electric heater on the hearth.

Somebody cleared their throat and Foggy almost jumped out of his skin.“Who’s there?” he said, trying to stop his voice from cracking with fright.

“Hello.”

Foggy squinted up at the mantelpiece. It was groaning with various items but he couldn’t work out what they were. The rats had stepped back and given Foggy more space, so he cautiously took a few steps forward. Oh. He could see better now.

A porcelain figurine stood on the mantelpiece. He was round all over, with a bald, domed head and a big belly that stuck out like a balloon. His body was painted to look like a black suit, vest and white tie. He held a cane in his hands.

Foggy couldn’t be sure of his age but the lack of hair made him think he might be a boy. It was hard to tell with toys sometimes. He took a gamble.

“Hey there, little buddy. Are you okay—”

“I am a man!” the figurine barked. He calmed himself down. “I apologise. I find myself under enormous stress these days. You’ll have to forgive my outburst. Are you the hero known as Supertroll?”

Huh. He had heard of Foggy – or at least, Cassie calling him that silly nickname. Foggy filed that away in his mind in case it was important.

“I…” 

He hesitated. 

Cassie had dubbed him Supertroll because he was a thrift store toy and she didn’t know what his real identity was. He knew, of course, but she never would. He could hardly tell her! To Cassie, he was a hero. Matt had made him see that. Oh, Matt. He was only in the next house but it felt like he was on the other side of the globe. He was Supertroll, wasn’t he? Who always put a smile on Cassie’s face, even during that time she had to go to the doctor to get that stuck marble out of her ear? Who had befriended Matt and cheered him up and gotten him out of his shell? Who had found Matt’s missing glasses? It had all been Foggy. So yeah, maybe he was Supertroll after all.

“I am, but…please, call me Foggy,” he said, a little awkwardly.

The doll nodded his massive head. “My name is Wilson Fisk. Thank you for meeting me..”

Didn’t exactly give me a choice, Foggy thought but he kept that to himself.

“You sent the rats to bring me here?”

“Yes. I hope they were gentle. They’re just beasts but very useful. And well-trained. But they cannot help me in my current dilemma so I instructed them to find a hardy toy to help me. One of our own, a figurine…the most beautiful figurine in the house, possibly ever made, is in peril. I need a brave toy to rescue her. I hope my faith in you isn’t unfounded.”

“You sound like you really care about her,”

“I do,” the doll said somberly. “Every part of me cries out in distress. I feel torn from her. The seconds rush by and I know she is in torment.”

“No offence but if you love her so much, why can’t you rescue her? You look pretty strong.”

“I am strong. But not stronger than the human who glued me to this mantelpiece.” Now that Foggy was aware of it, he couldn’t help but notice that Wilson Fisk had not moved once. Well, only his head as he spoke.

Foggy stared and tried to stop staring but couldn’t.

“You mean, you can never move? You have to just stay there, stuck in place forever?”

“Yes. It’s lonely. Terribly lonely. But she is the light of my life. Sometimes, I think of giving up but I keep myself going. For her.”

It was beautiful. Foggy’s heart ached for them. He had always hoped he would one day find a love like that, and for a time, he thought he had found it. But his situation with Matt was painful to think about. There was something about this doll’s story that seemed so romantic to Foggy. Two star-crossed lovers, destined to be apart but longing to be together.

He whispered a promise to help, and the doll smiled down at him.

“Where is she? What’s happened to her?”

“The human who owns this house keeps a dog in a crate. Deuce grows bored so the human throws toys into the crate to entertain him. They…do not last very long,” he said dispassionately, his face wrinkling in distaste.

“That’s barbaric! Can’t we do something!”

“When my wife is rescued, I have tentative plans to poison the dog’s water bowl. I have to be careful because my rats often feed from it and I do not wish to harm them. But we cannot put this plan into action until my wife is safe.”

Unease stirred within Foggy. He knew the situation was desperate and nothing sounded scarier than being stuck in a crate with a vicious canine. But to poison it… It wasn’t the dog’s fault. It had hunter instincts and nothing to do all day. Maybe he could convince this guy to call off the assassination attempt once his wife had been rescued. He’d probably chill out once she had been returned to him.

“I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Fisk had been relieved at Foggy’s ready acceptance. He had even given him help — two trusted toys. Two Beanie Babies — an owl and a snake. The owl had the uninspired name Owlsley and seemed bored and bad-tempered. The snake was very beautiful in a deadly way. His body was a tan brown with black markings. He slithered on his belly, appraising Foggy with glittering orange eyes. Wesley, his name was. His fangs lisped the word. Wesssley.

The two toys led him to the dining room. 

“Why can’t you guys rescue Fisk’s wife?” Foggy had asked them. 

“We’re stuffed toys and you’re thick plastic. It’s safer for you. The dog has a nasty bite.” Owlsley told him tiredly.

“It’sss very sssssuspiciousss that Vanessssa ended up in the dog’s den,” Wesley breathed, his gaze flicking up at Owlsley’s face.

“Exactly what are you implying?”

“If Fissssk worriesss for hisss bride, it leavesss him…dissstracted. Any toy could take advantage and climb to the top of the pile.”

Owlsley puffed himself up indignantly. “You think I had something to do with it?”

Wesley glanced at Foggy. “Let’sss discusss thisss later.”

The plan was simple but it did not fill Foggy with hope. The three toys would climb to the top of the crate. Owlsley would hold onto Wesley’s head and lower his body down. Foggy would climb down and grab Vanessa. It was better to go from the top because in a worst-case scenario (Deuce the dog waking up) Wesley could pull his body up in a flash, bringing Foggy with it.

Vanessa was a porcelain figurine like Fisk, according to Owlsley. So, they were only gonna get one shot at this. It wouldn’t take more than a single bite from Deuce’s jaws to bust her.

The crate loomed up, so high that he could not see the top of it. Metal black bars formed a grid pattern, wide enough that he could properly slip inside at any part of the crate. This was crazy. Why was he doing this? He wasn’t a hero. Not like Daredevil. He was brave, and skilled in parkour and probably a billion other things. He was fearless and cool in the face of danger. If Daredevil was walking beside him, Foggy would have felt braver. Hell, if Matt was with him, Foggy would feel brave enough to battle a hundred boxing robots. It was not wise to speak, so the three toys communicated with gestures. They climbed up the bars in silence. Foggy put one hand over the other, his jaws firmly closed lest he let even the tiniest sound out.

When they reached the summit, they gazed down at the sleeping mound of Deuce’s body. Shit, he was huge. His paw was as wide as Foggy’s body. Foggy gulped but was relieved to see that Owlsley was similarly affected.

“We’re doing something that’s not been done before,” he whispered. “Truth be told, I never thought Fisk would make me get involved in this. Toys don’t normally come out once they’re in Deuce’s crate—”

“Owlsssley, quiet,” Wesley said quickly, looking pointedly at Foggy. Foggy realised, here on slim bars with a slumbering beast below him, that he did not trust these toys.

But what could he do? There was an innocent figurine in danger. Wesley wrapped his tail around Foggy’s waist and lowered him through the bars. Owlsley stood watch at the top, his wings clutching Wesley’s head. Wesley’s powerful tail squeezed Foggy, thick muscles flexing in a coil. Foggy shuddered. He decided that he would never appreciate snakes, no matter how cute the little grass snakes looked in Cassie’s animal picture books.

Foggy’s feet finally touched the floor of the crate. It felt hard with a thin blanket on top.

Deuce snored, his whole body vibrating with the deep rumbles. Foggy searched the crate with his eyes for Fisk’s wife, Vanessa.

Finally, he spotted her. She was hiding in a fold of the blanket. Clever girl. If it hadn’t been for her white porcelain dress, he never would have spotted her.

Foggy waved at her and her delicate, painted face saw him. He beckoned and she carefully shrugged off the blanket. She stumbled across the blanket and fell into his open arms. She was a beautifully painted porcelain figurine, with a flowing gown and an elaborate hairstyle piled on top of her head.

Despite his fear, it felt good to help somebody.

“The cavalry’s here. Your husband sent me and his friends to rescue you.”

“Oh, my Wilson. I missed him so much. Yes, yes, let’s hurry.” She grasped Wesley’s twitching tail and he pulled her up. The tail disappeared through the bars, up to where Owlsley presumably was still waiting.

“Guys?” Foggy called softly, as loudly as he dared. Deuce slept on, his thundering breaths spewing hot air on Foggy’s face like a powerful space heater. “Little help?”

For one second, he thought they were going to leave him there. But the tail spiralled down like an unravelling rope and Foggy grabbed it gratefully. When Wesley pulled him up to the top of the crate, a furious, whispering argument was in motion.

“I know what I saw! You grabbed me in the night and put me here.” Vanessa bit out, staring daggers at Owlsley.

“Oh, and how would I do that? I don’t have hands to carry you, my dear.”

“You flew me here. I was half-asleep but I know that much. I woke up in the crate.”

The owl fluttered his wings nervously. “Well, forgive me, Mrs Fisk, but you have no proof. Why anybody would believe the frightened ravings of a figurine—”

Vanessa folded her arms. “Wesley, this is the man who abducted me and delivered me to Deuce. You’ve always been a good friend to my husband, so…what are you going to do?”

Wesley hesitated.

Foggy watched this, confused. A power struggle was taking place, something with delicate politics that he knew nothing about. This house was so different from Scott's house. He didn’t like it here.

Wesley moved so quickly that Foggy jumped. Wesley’s brown and black tail shot out and swiped Owlsley off his feet. The owl stumbled back, a shocked expression on his face and fell, right through the gap in the bars. His scream was terrible, a piercing cry as he fell down, down.

Deuce’s eyes opened, as dark and wet as tunnels into the earth.

The crate rocked as the dog tore Owlsley apart. Deuce’s teeth snapped wetly, but even the grinding of his massive jaws couldn’t mask the sound of Owlsley’s body ripping at the seams. Thread snapped, and stuffing flew in the air. And through it all, Wesley’s and Vanessa’s faces remained unchanged. They may as well have been listening to a song on the radio.

When at last the frenzied chewing stopped and Deuce bowed his head to snuffle Owlsley’s corpse, Vanessa spoke.

“You did the right thing, Wesley. I’m sure my husband will find a way to reward your loyalty.”

Wesley nodded respectfully.

Foggy could hardly bring himself to look at them both. These toys were monsters. The snake had given him the creeps since he first met him but even the beautiful figurine was wicked as they came.

“And as for you…” Vanessa turned to Foggy and smiled kindly at him. “Thank you for saving me. But we can’t have any witnesses.”

She pushed her tiny, hard hands and shoved Foggy in the chest. With nothing to hold onto, he fell backwards into vast, yawning nothingness.

Well, now that he was falling to his death, Foggy had bigger problems than worrying about the conspiracies and toy hierarchy in this house

He fell down and it felt like he was falling forever. His hands flailed, grabbing at nothing. When he fell, he landed on something hot and soft but firm.

Deuce’s body.

Deuce stirred, flicking the tattered owl away with his nose.

Foggy tried to lie still even though his whole body was shaking. Deuce was so big and Foggy was so small. Maybe if he lay perfectly still, Deuce wouldn’t realise there was a troll doll lying on his back.

But Deuce had felt him fall. Deuce rolled over and Foggy fell off, landing onto the same stinky blanket he had stood on just a few minutes before.

Deuce stared down at him like how Cassie would look at a slice of birthday cake. His eyes were wide and wet and completely focused on Foggy. Drool dripped down the corners of his mouth in glittering ropes. His teeth curved inwards, white in the middle and butter-yellow edging towards the gums. He was the ugliest thing Foggy had ever seen. Any minute now, Foggy was going to learn if those teeth were capable of ripping his body apart.

What would Matt do? What would Marci or Karen do? No…because they were just good, normal dolls. They would be as terrified as him. He thought of another doll in ragged clothing with a cocky grin and unaffected air. What would Daredevil do?

The answer came to him in a flash. It was crazy, but he had nothing else he could do.

“Deuce!” Foggy yelled and the dog stopped dead. 

It stared at him, its huge wet brown eyes tracking his every movement. Matt had brown eyes, they were a lot prettier than Deuce’s bloodshot gaze. But Foggy pushed thoughts of Matt to the back of his mind. Matt wasn't the one in trouble; Foggy needed to focus on himself.

“Deuce!” he said again and Deuce dropped down onto his haunches, bringing his face close to Foggy’s. His stinking breath was as thick as a snowstorm, a physical force that assaulted the senses. There was only one thing he could say. The worst thing you could say to a creature like this. “Bad dog! Bad Dog, Deuce!”

Deuce whimpered, and his tail slapped down, pressing itself to the floor. He laid down, making himself as small as possible, ducking his head. He was trembling. Foggy didn’t like to think about what treatment the dog had received from his owner to make him behave that way. It really was too small a crate for such a big dog, when Deuce was standing, his ears had pushed through the gaps in the bars.

Foggy crept by him, stepping over his oversized paw. When Deuce glanced up, Foggy chided him with another “Bad dog!” and at last, he was within a handspan of the bars. He slipped through, walking backwards, not daring to turn his back on the dog. When he had finally made it out of the crate, he breathed in relief. There was no sign of that creepy-ass snake and the mean figurine. Whatever. Fisk was probably overjoyed to get ‘the light of his life’ back.

Deuce stared at Foggy through the bars.

“Awoooo.” Deuce howled mournfully. His paw reached out through the bars but Foggy didn’t take the bait.

Now that Foggy was out of the crate, Deuce didn’t look quite so fearsome. Sure, he had big teeth and claws. but he was very cute actually, with fluffy, triangle-shaped ears and bright eyes. Foggy glanced around for something to give him, now that he had lost his ‘toy.’ 

An old sock lay on the carpet by the armchair, like a discarded fruit peel. He picked it up, dragging it like a sack, and threw it in the crate. Deuce immediately pounced on it and tossed it back out of the cage with his teeth. For a moment, Foggy thought he was rejecting the gift and then he realised what it was.

Fetch.

Foggy played catch with him for a few minutes, the two of them throwing the sock back and forth. Deuce kept jumping around in excitement, his tail wagging madly, and every time that boisterous tail smacked into the bars by mistake, Foggy winced in sympathy. It really wasn’t Deuce’s fault that Owlsley had died and Foggy had almost gone the same way. He was just a bored dog who didn’t know any better. 

Foggy threw the sock in one last time and turned to leave.

“Good boy, Deuce! Before I leave, I’m gonna get you out of there. You can’t spend your life in a jail cell, it isn’t right.”

Fisk, Vanessa, Owlsley and Wesley couldn’t be the only toys here. If Foggy could find some more, maybe they could help him figure out a way out of this house. That was the plan, anyway.

He didn’t think there had been children in this house for a long time. The house was harder to traverse than Scott’s place. The person who lived here kept it messy and Foggy had to sidestep mountains of old clothing and toppling piles of magazines that stood like skyscrapers above him. It was challenging, being a little toy. And he was alone.

He thought that he heard whispering as he went from room to room, and he had a distinct feeling that he was being watched. He finally stopped in a bedroom to catch his bearings.

“If anybody is there, just come out and speak to me,” he said bravely.

Several toys climbed out from under the bookshelves and the bed.

Foggy was correct in his assumption that no children lived here. All the toys looked decades old. There were Barbies with stiff hair and retro dresses, teddy bears with stuffing leaking out of moth-eaten holes in their sides, and other toys that were so old or dusty that Foggy could not recognise what they were.

“... Hi,” Foggy said in a small voice. He hoped that these guys were friendly. Fisk’s gang certainly weren’t.

An action figure with a white mask regarded him coolly. “Welcome to Hell, kid. I’m Marc Spector.” To Foggy’s shock, the doll took his head off and placed a second head on his shoulders instead. It was unmasked and had quite a handsome face.

“It’s very nice to meet you!” he said chirpily, beaming at him. He took his head off and replaced it with the previous one and Foggy was facing the white mask once more. “That was Steven. So, troll. Why are you here? There are no kids in this house.”

“I know. I ended up here by…accident.”

“The rats get you?” A weasel plushie said, shaking his head. “It’s always the rats.”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“The rats work for a twisted individual, they do his bidding.” Marc began.

 “He’s a very unpleasant bloke!” 

“Steven, don’t interrupt. Wilson Fisk. He’s the one who sits on the mantelpiece in the main room. You seen him?”

“Yeah. The crazy bastard told me to rescue his wife by going into that dog’s cage. He got Wesley and Owlsley to go with me. We saved Fisk’s wife but she and Wesley killed Owlsley. And tried to kill me!”

“Hmm, that doesn’t surprise me. That shit with Owlsley and Fisk was a powder keg waiting to happen. I can’t say I’m saddened to hear Owlsley died. That asshole was always spying on us and taking it back to Fisk.” Marc said.

A squirrel plushie bounded up and threw herself at Foggy.

He squeaked in alarm but she only hugged him tightly and then let him go. It was so out of touch with the current mood but Foggy smiled at her kindly. He got the impression she was a naive girl. “A new friend! Awesome. What’s your name, stranger?” she chirped.

“Foggy.”

“I’m Doreen Green. It’s very nice to see a new face here. Normally, we say goodbye to friends, not hello.”

“Yeah, uh, I have a few questions about the setup that you have here…”

Marc shook his head. “Not here. The rats are always listening and they report back to Fisk. Let’s go somewhere private to discuss this.”

Doreen, Marc (carrying Steven’s head), and the weasel led Foggy to the bed and they crept underneath it. Foggy sneezed as the thick dust shivered in the air. It was pitch-black down here, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face.

Doreen was fearless, excitedly pulling him deeper under the bed until at last, they stopped.

“Okay.” Marc’s voice was low and rough in the dark. Foggy shivered. “This is far enough that they shouldn’t hear us. You’ve obviously noticed that there are no children here. So, why do we stay?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Foggy muttered.

“The truth is, Fisk calls the shots. He hoards every resource we toys need. Safety pins, batteries, accessories, and paint for when our features flake off. You can’t even get a needle and thread anymore. Weasel here has had a hole in his foot for weeks but Fisk won’t give him a needle and thread to sew the damned thing. Old furball can barely limp along. If we try and escape, he makes his rats drag us back here. Wesley is a sick fuck and one of Fisk’s spies. At least Owlsley is dead now. Best news I’ve heard all week."

“That’s…sick. Why does Fisk do that?

Marc sighed. He sounded terribly sad. “It benefits him to keep us weak and unable to oppose him. He denies us what we need and if we disobey him, he makes his rats throw us to the dog. How’d you like old Deuce?”

“Deuce!” Steven’s head cried, still held in Marc’s arms. “Oh, that bloody dog scares me to death. He’s going to rip us all to shreds one of these days.”

Weasel nodded and said a few choice words that Foggy didn’t think a respectable toy would know.

Doreen looked conflicted. “He’s an animal, like us, Weas.”

“We’re animal toys, not real animals. I’ve never ripped a toy in half. Deuce has. My teeth are made of cardboard.”

“I may be an animal toy but I’m still an animal,” she protested fiercely. “One day, I’m gonna get out of here and live in the trees with all the other squirrels and it’ll be great, you’ll see.”

“Guys, please,” Foggy said. Everybody fell silent and looked at him. “Deuce is as much of a prisoner as us.”

Weasel snorted. 

“No, it’s true. His owner keeps him in that tiny crate with no fun stuff to do. He must be lonely and going crazy with boredom. We need to get you guys out of here but we need to get Deuce out of here too.”

“You’re crazy,” Marc snapped. “You were lucky to escape the rats and Fisk. You can stay with us, if you like. I’ll find you a place to sleep, you can live in our community. We’ll hide you from Fisk. But don’t you dare do something stupid like free Deuce. If you do, I’ll hand you to Fisk myself.”

“Marc!” Doreen cried.

“What? Sure, he seems like a good guy, but Deuce is dangerous and I’m not gonna let some soft-hearted troll put us all in danger.”

There was no point arguing with him but Foggy tried anyway. It was no good. Marc wouldn’t listen to sense. Even Steven couldn’t make him calm down. Foggy had no choice but to go with the rest of the toys. They found him a space on a lower shelf of a bookcase. They had made them into a sort of apartment with toys occupying every shelf. Foggy was to be roommates with Weasel. 

“Welcome to the rest of your life,” Weasel said as they bedded down for the night. Foggy didn’t like him very much.

He tried to sleep but it proved impossible. He kept thinking he could hear scuttling sounds in the corners of the room. The rats? And Weasel kept groaning about the hole in his foot.

Foggy rolled over and tried to drift off.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Matt beamed down at him. He looked beautiful as ever, his sunglasses perched on his nose and his face lit up with his perfect grin. Foggy smiled up at him. Matt wasn’t wearing his grey suit. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a fake red rose in the buttonhole.

The room was bright and airy, so vast that Foggy couldn’t see the edges. He was standing under a wreath of roses, with Matt.

He turned and saw an audience. Marci and Karen were smiling and hugging each other in excitement, Doreen was jumping up and down, even Weasel managed a languid wave.

“They’re here for us, Foggy.”. Matt held out a gold-coloured hairband. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

Foggy could hardly believe this was happening. He smiled so widely that his face hurt. “Yes! Yes, I will!”

Matt gently threaded Foggy’s hair through the band and everybody cheered. 

But then the cheers turned to screams. Foggy clutched Matt in alarm.

Somebody was striding through the wedding party, pushing toys out of the way. Wilson Fisk sneered at them, flanked by two large rats. He shoved his way to the front of the crowd, hitting toys with a cane.

“This man is an imposter! Matt Murdock, you are found guilty of impersonating a toy. Take him away!”

“What? No! Matt!” Foggy screamed. He tried to hold onto Matt’s slim plastic arms but Matt was ripped away from him.

“Foggy, it’s not what you think! I was just trying to help—”

“He will be executed at dawn tomorrow,” Fisk said with satisfaction, over the screams and cries. “Death by Deuce.”

“What? No! Doesn’t he get a trial?” Foggy screamed. He beat his fists on the rat’s back but it wouldn’t relinquish its grip on Matt. Matt’s body shook as the rat’s teeth punctured his plastic.

“Well, we would hold one if only he had a lawyer,” Fisk smirked.

Chapter Text

Sunday morning (dawn)

“Hey, get up.”

Foggy opened his eyes. A rat was in his room! It had come to arrest him, too! He lashed out but it ducked. As he woke up properly, he realised it wasn’t a rat. It was a squirrel.

“Doreen!”

He thought it must be morning but it was still so dark in the room that he could barely see the tiny squirrel. He wished he was at home in Cassie’s bed. Sometimes, he would wake in the early morning, and glance at the time on Cassie’s wristwatch and just enjoy feeling safe and warm in the near-darkness.

Doreen shushed him. Weasel snored on from his side of the shelf. It had been a dream, then. Marrying Matt and watching him get publicly executed by Fisk’s rats. The relief was so potent, he felt drugged as he sat up and spoke to Doreen.

“Sorry,” Foggy whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Me and some of the others don’t agree with Marc. He’s too scared to upset the system because he thinks Fisk will throw us all to Deuce. But you were right. If Deuce wasn’t here, Fisk wouldn’t have him to use to keep us in line. I don’t fancy my chances against Fisk and the rats and the dog. But Fisk and the rats? That’s a fairer fight.”

She was only a little squirrel and had a young voice. Foggy squinted at her. “Are you sure? We would be going behind Marc’s back. He’s your leader, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but I think we need to do something. Some of the others agree with me, we’re having a secret meeting right now. You gotta come with us, please, please, please!”

“Okay, alright!” Foggy chuckled. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

“Where’s the human who lives here?” Foggy whispered as they crept down the bookcase and made their way across the floorboards.

“She’s always going out of town. She doesn’t like to stay here since her kids left.”

“You know, she probably wouldn’t miss you if you guys escaped.”

Doreen’s eyes twinkled but then she sighed. “No. Fisk would never allow us to leave. He won’t let you go either, now you’re here. But that’s just all the more reason for us to fight him!” she said fervently.

Her words caused a chill to seep through Foggy’s plastic. Was he as much a prisoner as she was? Fisk was evil. Yes, he was a figurine. He didn’t deserve the word ‘toy’. Toys brought joy to children, all Fisk did was cause harm and oppress the folk who should be his friends and neighbours.

The dissenting toys met in the bathroom. There were a couple of Barbies, (a witch Barbie in red and what looked like a spy Barbie in black), and Doreen. And Foggy, of course.

“Is this it?” Foggy said.

Doreen jumped up and down on her bushy tail. “Hey! We’re tough. We can fight!”

Foggy looked eagerly at the doll in the witch’s hat. “Witch Barbie, can you do magic?”

“No, troll. It’s just the costume. And don’t call me Witch Barbie, my name is Wanda.”

“Wanda, Natasha, be nice. Foggy agrees that we need to fight Fisk once and for all. If we take him down, we won’t be prisoners anymore. Foggy will help.”

“What can the troll do?” Natasha looked unimpressed with Doreen’s offering.

“Hey! I might not have a zillion points of articulation or a bunch of accessories but I’m every bit as good as you!” Foggy said, offended.

“Okay, don’t get your hair in a twist. We need to discuss what assets we have —  so what do we have that Fisk doesn’t? I can fight. Doreen can climb. Foggy, what can you do?”

Foggy squirmed uncomfortably. “I can’t really do anything more than the next toy.”

Natasha didn’t look impressed. “Okay. We need to plan how to do this. Over the upcoming weeks, we can devise a strategy—”

“It has to be today,” Foggy said.

Natasha gawked at him, too shocked to keep up the ice queen act. “Today! You’re crazy.”

“Hey! I’m not crazy. My Cassie is currently sleeping in the next house. But later today, she’s leaving to go back to her mom’s. I have to be in her suitcase. I’m leaving with her. I don’t care what you think, if you don’t help me, I’ll — I’ll t-take on Fisk myself.”

Wanda laughed incredulously but Natasha nodded.

“Okay. So, today it is.”

The four toys spoke in whispers, paranoid in the dark bathroom. Every insect that skittered by was a spy, eavesdropping and reporting back to Fisk. Every drop of the leaky pipe by the toilet was footsteps, Fisk making his way to them.

They had talked for hours, going in circles as they threw out plans and strategies that collapsed in seconds. 

Foggy shook his head. “We’re only four toys. How can we do this? Fisk on his own wouldn’t be too bad but the rats… Four toys can’t take on all that.”

“What if you weren’t four? What if you were five?” said a voice from behind them.

Foggy turned to see Steven grinning down at them.

As the action figure drew closer, Foggy wondered if it really was Steven after all. He hadn’t spoken with Steven’s sweet British accent. And Steven didn’t grin like that. It wasn’t a nice smile. Whoever it was, they were wearing Marc’s body.

“Jake?” Wanda whispered. “But…we thought Marc lost your head.”

“Steven found me the other day. He was so determined for the three of us to be together again. Like a family. Marc doesn’t know. And Marc’s not going to know.”

The three girls looked at each other. Foggy stepped forward.

“Why are you here? Does Marc know you’re borrowing his body?”

“It’s not just his body. It’s mine, too. We all came in the same box.” Jake dropped to a crouch beside them. He was every bit as handsome as Steven (Foggy had never seen Marc’s face but assumed it must look identical to Steven’s) but when he smiled, there was no humour or warmth in it.

“So, you want to help?”

“I do. On one condition. When we do this, I get Fisk.”

“What do you mean, you ‘get him’?” Foggy asked. 

“He’s got something I want. He hoards the resources, didya know that? I want the first pick of the spoils. And if I gotta kill him to do that…” He shrugged. “Fine by me.”

This wasn’t ideal. Jake was a wildcard, Foggy could see that and he had only just met him. The other toys thought so too. But what could they do? Jake seemed so capable, in the most terrifying way possible. Even Natasha with her badass spy costume and cold eyes had nothing on him. Jake was like a mongoose, something hissing and spitting and absolutely wild. But Foggy would rather have Jake as an ally than an enemy.

“Okay,” he said, because the other toys were silent and Foggy felt like he had volunteered into being the leader of their little troop. “You can join us. So, what should we do?”

They planned well into the night and when dawn came, Wanda told Foggy he should go back to his shelf and try to get a couple of hours sleep. She and Natasha had warmed up to him. But Foggy supposed that a smiley troll, when compared to an action figure with crazy eyes, was the preferable option.

Later that morning, Foggy got up and joined the rest of the toys on the bedroom floor.

Marc didn’t appear to know his body had been augmented by Jake a few hours earlier. He greeted Foggy with a touch more friendliness than yesterday.

The other toys decided to play a game and Foggy casually separated himself from the group. Doreen caught his eye and followed him.

“Everything going okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just keep your cool. Remember the plan. Nat will come back when she has the stuff. Where’s Nat?”

Foggy and the others had planned this for hours. 

Natasha soon found them and she showed them what she had been working on.

It was a note, and written in large handwriting were the words:

HI MY NAME IS DEUCE. MY OWNER MISTREATED ME SO I RAN AWAY. WILL YOU BE MY OWNER INSTEAD?

“Perfect,” Foggy crowed. “We slip that in Deuce’s collar. That way, when we free him, a nice human will find him and take him home.”

“You really think it will work? Are humans really like that?”

Foggy thought back to Cassie, lovingly caring for him and making him good as new. “Yeah. It’ll work.” Cassie was probably just waking up. Maybe she was wondering why he wasn’t in her arms while she slept like he usually was. He tried not to think of her because that was painful. “We need to go to the main room where Deuce is and—”

“Hey, what are you doing?” Marc said, marching over. “What’s that note say?”

“Run!” Foggy cried but Natasha smiled grimly.

“Hey, Marc, think fast.” She punched him in the face and as Marc stumbled back, she pulled his head off. His body reeled back, his arms windmilling madly but she shoved another head onto his neck. Jake was back.

“Thanks, Red. I believe I owe ya a kiss to say thank you.”

“If you kiss me, I’ll feed you to Deuce,” she said. “Sorry, Marc but we can’t let you derail our plans.” She hid Marc’s head under the corner of a moth-eaten rug. “Let’s move, guys.”

It was all happening so fast. Marc had almost ruined the whole operation. If it hadn’t been for Nat’s quick thinking, it all would have been over.

Foggy and the others ran into the dining room, Nat dragging the note behind her. 

Foggy peered at the crate. Yes! “Deuce is asleep,” he whispered.

Nat nodded. “I’ll go in there and stick the note in his collar.” but before she could move, Doreen laid a furry paw on her arm.

“No, Nat. You’re plastic. You’re made up of loads of parts. If Deuce wakes up and grabs you, you’ll break in seconds. Let me do it. I’m a stuffed toy, I can last longer.”

“No way. You’re a child,” Natasha said. 

“Let me do it!” Foggy argued. “I’m plastic too but I’m only one part. There’s nothing in me to break!”

“Yes, but I’m a spy!”

“You’re a spy but you don’t have any weapons so you aren’t really…wait a minute. Damn it. Nat, look!”

Foggy and Natasha had been so engrossed in their argument that they had missed the tiny wily squirrel picking the note up and creeping across the room. She waved at them from the bars of the crate.

“Doreen, don’t!” Nat called desperately. “Let us do it!”

“I’m an animal and so is Deuce. None of this is his fault. No matter what happens—” Doreen’s voice broke. “—if anything goes wrong, promise me you won’t blame him.”

“Doreen, you get down here this instant!” Nat said sharply but Doreen didn’t listen.

Nat tried to storm after her but Foggy grabbed her hand.

“One toy has a chance. Two toys would wake Deuce up.”

She knew he was right. They watched Doreen from the floor.

Doreen snuck through the bars, her note trailing on the floor of the crate. Deuce was too far away for Foggy to smell the rotten breath but he knew Doreen could smell it. She could probably hear his snores. Close enough to see his yellow-tinged teeth and the tremulous whiskers embedded in his dark muzzle.

She was a sneaky little squirrel, that Doreen. She would have been great in the trees outside, scampering up great limbs of wood and playing hide and seek amongst the foliage. She crept closer, pausing every so often. Foggy watched, unconsciously clinging to Nat’s legs as Doreen brought her paws up to the red leather collar around Deuce’s neck. She had rolled the note up and it was this tube of paper that she nudged into his collar.

“How’s she doing?” Foggy whispered. 

“She’s almost —she’s got it! Yes, Doreen, get out of there.” She beckoned furiously.

The room exploded with music and Deuce jerked upright. It sounded like Fur Elise.

Something that had always humbled Foggy and made him feel small was the fact that humans were so much bigger than toys. There were very few toys that were as big as a child and Foggy wasn’t sure if there were any that were bigger than a human. Humans stomped everywhere and spoke with booming voices. Their bathtubs could drown him. He could get lost in a garden and never find his way back home.

The enormity of their bodies and lives made it like living amongst giants. Everything they used from their clothes to their houses to their vehicles were so big. Their vans were big too.

An ice cream van. That’s all it was, that’s all it took. An ice cream van driving past the house, merrily ringing out a jaunty tune to entice kids into buying ice creams. The jingle woke Deuce up. Doreen didn’t stand a chance.

She screamed as Deuce’s teeth sunk into her. She was nothing more than a brown blur in the dog’s face.

“No!” 

Somebody was screaming but Foggy didn’t know who, couldn’t do anything but he ran anyway, his legs tearing across the carpet even as Natasha wailed for him to come back. He had to do something. He had to get her out of there.

He crashed through the crate and threw himself at Deuce. Eighty pounds of muscle and fur hit him, like he had run into a wall. Deuce barked joyously because now he had two toys. Stuffing flew through the air like snowflakes. Doreen… She didn’t move when Foggy screamed out her name. The note was still lodged in Deuce’s collar, stark white against the dark fur.

He wanted to hurt him. Poison him like Fisk had suggested. But that wasn’t what Doreen had wanted.

“Bad dog!” Foggy bawled and Deuce dropped Doreen into his water bowl. “Bad dog, evil dog! Murderer!”

Deuce whined in distress.

“Foggy, don’t! Don’t! Doreen said not to blame him!” 

“Do you want to die today, troll?” Jake jeered. He didn’t look too sorry at seeing Foggy behind bars. “Getting torn to pieces as a dog’s chew-toy, is that how you wanna go? Thought you had a kid to get back to.”

Cassie. The enormity of humans. Something bigger and greater than he was. Foggy’s heart ached with grief, pain for so many toys. Pain for Doreen, never to move again, with stuffing spread out on an old dog blanket. Pain for Matt, with his scarred face and lonely life living in Scott’s house. And pain for himself, for being ripped away from Cassie again and again, and ripped away from Matt, and why did he have to be given so many good things if they were just going to be taken away from him again?

He knew Jake was right, though. Doreen was gone, but Cassie was still there. Only a few walls separated him from her. He had to get back to her.

He turned his back firmly on Doreen and Deuce and stepped out of the crate.

Wanda met them in their usual meeting spot, the bathroom.

“Hey, where’s Doreen?” she asked. Her eyes grew wide when Natasha slowly shook her head. Wanda was silent for a moment, and then she took off her pointed hat. “She was the best of us. Um, I found what we were looking for. They were shut up in a cupboard with the Christmas decorations but I found the key and let them out.”

“Are they willing to join the cause?” Natasha was as ready as Wanda was to move on from the painful subject of Doreen’s passing and move back to the task at hand.

“Yes but they’re very young—”

Something big and dark scuttled in through the open door.

Foggy had seen many Christmas and Halloween decorations before. Not all were toys. Banners weren’t toys. Cutlery with illustrations drawn on them were not toys. But some decorations were blessed with the mystery of life and would be considered toys in their own right.

And the plastic Halloween spiders were absolutely toys.

There weren’t that many of them but the number was impossible to determine because they all kept writhing around and crawling all over each other. They were young, like Wanda had said, and delighted at being freed from the cupboard.

“Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!”

“Hi…you guys click together, don’t you? To form a kind of banner?”

“Yes! Yeah! We do! That’s right!”

“And you’re willing to help us?” Nat asked them, frowning sceptically. Maybe she regretted involving children after what had happened to Doreen. Or maybe she just didn’t like the noise.

“Peter will help! Gwen will help! Miles will help! Peni will help! Hobie will help—”

“Okay, great. Follow me, kids, and I’ll show you what we’re gonna do.”

Foggy felt completely different now, walking into the dining room where Fisk lived. When he first came here (had it only been a day ago?) he had been afraid but determined to help Fisk. Now, he was going to oppose him. But Foggy wasn’t alone. He had friends.

“Foggy, you’re alive! I’m…pleased.” Fisk rumbled, spotting them immediately. His porcelain eyes bulged with shock to see the ragtag group of toys flanking Foggy. Vanessa gaped at them.

“Cut the crap, loser. Your wife tried to kill me.” Foggy said. If looks could kill, Vanessa would have turned Foggy to dust, right there and then.

“Mr. Fisk, we’re acting on behalf of all the toys in this house,” Jake said smoothly. He was the only one who looked absolutely unfazed at the upcoming battle. “Step down or we will be forced to remove you and I will take a lotta pleasure in doing so.”

“Step down, sir? How can I do that when I am…GLUED IN PLACE?” Fisk threw his head back and laughed. He thumped his cane on the mantelpiece and as if on cue, several dark shapes slithered out from under the furniture below. 

The rats. They were even uglier in the daylight, with the sun illuminating every white whisker and clump of greasy fur.

“I am not a vengeful man. I am…slow to anger and I have softened considerably since meeting my wife. If you toys leave this room, I’m willing to forget this conversation ever took place.”

“No dice, egghead,” Foggy yelled. “We’re not leaving until we get your batteries and your needle and thread and everything else the toys need.”

“He’s got it all,” Jake said, his eyes glittering with a strange emotion. “It’s all up there and I’m gonna get it. Spider-kids, I need you.”

He picked up the nearest plastic spider, a white one with blue and pink markings, and slapped her onto the next spider. He did this until all the spiders’ legs interlocked in one long chain. “Kid, I’m gonna throw you at the mantelpiece. Just try and find something to hang onto.”

He threw her at the wall and she squealed with excitement as she sailed through the air. Her little rubber feet flew out and clung to the edge of the mantelpiece. Fisk hit her with his cane but she bravely stayed put and Jake grabbed the spider at the bottom of the chain and began to climb. His movements were frantic and crazed and he climbed higher, despite Fisk’s protestations. 

Fisk and Vanessa threw things at him, a spool of thread, a thimble and other little items but they all bounced off Jake and he ignored the evil figurines. When he finally reached Fisk and stood on the mantelpiece looking down, Foggy cheered. Jake grinned triumphantly.

“What will you do to me?” Fisk asked hoarsely. For all his pomp and arrogance, he looked cowed as the deranged toy towered over him.

“Nothing. The only reason I joined these morons was to get this.” He picked something up off the mantelpiece behind Fisk and held it up. “Superglue! Now I can glue my head onto my body and Marc and Steven will never get in my way ever again!”

“No!” Wanda shrieked. 

“Jake, you fucking rat!” Foggy screamed. “You betrayed us!”

“Sorry, buddy, but that’s what I do. Thanks for the help.” He shimmied down the chain of spiders, carrying his precious tube of glue in his arms.

Foggy tried to stop him but Nat shook her head. “Let the traitor leave. We still haven’t finished our mission.”

“You won’t be finishing anything,” Fisk sneered. He thumped his cane on the mantelpiece and the rats tensed. “My rats will drag you back to Deuce’s cage. Content yourself with the knowledge that you will spend your life moments being played with. Isn’t that the only thing you toys care about?”

“You know nothing about toys! You’re not a toy and you never will be!” Foggy screamed.

Fisk smiled. “Perhaps not, but I will enjoy immortality while you will die in a pile of dog drool. Have a good day, Mr. Troll.”

The rats advanced and although Natasha threw herself in front of Foggy and Wanda and tried to defend them with punches and kicks, there were too many rats and they soon swarmed the gang. As so many rats pressed up against them, forming a wall that Foggy couldn’t break through, he thought it was all over.

And then he heard a voice calling his name.

“Foggy! Down here!”

Foggy raised his head, straining to see past the squirming rats.

Daredevil waved from behind a couch leg. Foggy almost fainted in relief, he had never been so glad to see anybody in his life. The relief was like a physical reaction, a pressure eased in his chest and he even managed a giddy smile in Daredevil’s direction.

“Help us,” he mouthed.

Daredevil stepped away from the table and Foggy could see he was carrying a sock, brimming with something. He grabbed a handful of…something and pelted it at the rats.

It didn’t appear to harm them or even gain their attention. Daredevil looked annoyed and tried again.

The second handful did it. 

The nearest rat looked with interest and then gobbled it up. Daredevil threw more and more handfuls and kept backing away from them, dragging the sock-sack with him. More and more handfuls rained down on the rats and they ate them greedily. The wall of rats began to break down and the bodies separated, each rat flocking to the tiny action figure running away.

“What did he throw?” Wanda whispered.

Foggy nudged one of the fallen crumbs on the floor. “Cake.”

“What are you doing? Come back! Is that cake? I can get you a cake, I’ll give you a hundred cakes, just please come back and kill the toys!” Fisk begged but it was no use. The rats had left the room and followed the toy who had enticed them with tasty treats.

Foggy couldn’t help gloating, just a little. He felt he had earned it. “Sorry, Fisk, but rats aren’t toys. They’re animals and they go where the food goes.”

“If they won’t kill you, I’ll kill you myself,” Fisk snarled and he grabbed his cane and tried to lever himself off the mantelpiece.

Daredevil ran back in, leaving the sack with the rats and he swept Foggy up in a huge hug. “Are you okay?” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah, I am now. Thanks for the save!” Foggy gasped, clinging onto him. Daredevil was a good friend. He might have had to cut himself clothes out of socks because he wasn’t a proper action figure but—

Foggy stopped dead.

He had wondered before whether Daredevil was actually an action figure. He owned no accessories and had crafted his hero costume out of an old sock. At the time, something hadn’t made sense about it. He had seemed so familiar…and that dream Foggy had. Matt, getting arrested for…impersonating a toy. Was Matt Daredevil?

“Matt—” he started but Daredevil, no, Matt , shook his head vigorously.

“Not yet. We’ll talk later. Please, Foggy.”

Foggy nodded and Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fisk!” Matt called out. “I’ve heard of you, I know what you’ve done to the toys. But you can’t do this. You’re glued in place, if you try to remove yourself without rubbing the glue off first, you could crack and break! Don’t do this, you know what will happen.”

“Shut up! You know nothing! I am the overseer! I am better than the toys! I don’t need to be loved or played with  because I am the God who watches over you and showers you with judgement!”

Matt pushed past Foggy and the others. He clambered up the swinging spider chain without a second of hesitation.

“Fisk, let me help you!”

Matt was almost at the top.

“No! No toy can do anything for me! Ha!” With a last, triumphant laugh, Fisk levered his cane in between his own body and the wall and something had to give. His body was free and he stood up slowly, like the conductor of an orchestra. But something was wrong. He stumbled, his smug expression faltering and giving way to fear.  Matt reached out for him but Fisk fell down, down, past Matt and the spiders and down to the floor. 

He shattered into a dozen pieces. His cane snapped in two.

Matt hurtled down the spider chain and it dispersed, the spider kids scurrying away into the shadows.

Wanda pelted after them. “They’re just children, they’re scared, I’ll make sure they’re alright—”

Natasha grabbed some stuff off the floor and ran away. It seemed uncharacteristically cowardly of the spy doll, but she had just watched an evil dictator kick the bucket so Foggy couldn’t blame her. It had all happened so suddenly and now he was here, looking at another broken body. Vanessa stared down at the pieces of Fisk’s body, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Vanessa—” Matt called but she shook her head slowly.

“There’s nothing for me now,” she whispered and when she took a step, her porcelain gown clinking on the mantelpiece, Matt said nothing.

Vanessa leapt down, her face calm, as calm as it had been when she had thrown Foggy into the crate. She smashed down on stone, and her pieces rained down, mingling with FIsk’s remains. It had been a love story that could have gone down in history. 

“Don’t look.” Matt held Foggy and turned him around so he couldn’t see the bodies anymore.

“I guess you can’t see them either,” Foggy mumbled into Matt’s chest. Matt laughed softly.

“So, you worked it out. I’m impressed.”

“How did you find me?”

Matt explained that the chemicals in the nail varnish remover hadn’t just robbed him of his sight but had given him special powers. He had heard the cries and screams through walls and guessed Foggy was in trouble. Foggy listened, spellbound. 

Although it was awesome to learn that Matt was a hero in his own right, Foggy had something important to tell him.

“I’m sorry I led you on. I wasn’t trying to. I knew I had to go back to Cassie’s but I guess I wanted to hold onto the dream a little longer that I could have a good owner and my soulmate.” Foggy sighed.

“I get it. It was wrong of me to tell you to turn your back on your owner. I know Cassie is a good kid. She deserves you.”

“Thanks.” They left the room, leaving Fisk and Vanessa lying in pieces.

“We still need to save Deuce,” Foggy told him as they walked away.

“The dog?!”

Okay, so it turned out that Natasha wasn’t a coward. During the battle, when Fisk had pelted Jake with objects, Nat’s sharp eyes had spotted something. Fisk had thrown a needle and thread on the floor.

That’s what Nat had grabbed and that’s why she’d rushed out of the room as soon as the battle was over. Because there was somebody who needed that needle and thread very badly.

Matt and Foggy found the hallway in chaos. Toys were lining up to receive batteries, buttons, wads of stuffing and sewing. Weasel was getting his foot sewn up by Wanda. And Natasha was with—

“Doreen!” Foggy raced up to her and threw his arms around her. “You’re still here!”

Doreen smiled weakly. Her body was covered in messy stitches but at least the stuffing was on the inside this time. Foggy gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Nat dragged me out of the crate and collected all my stuffing. She sewed me up. She’s so brave.”

“How did you manage that?”

Nat smirked. “I took a leaf out of your book, Foggy. Deuce becomes an absolute peach if you call him a bad dog.”

“We still need to send him out into the world. Matt, can you unlock the front door?”

“Easily.”

Matt grabbed the shoelace tied around his waist. He had threaded it through a paperclip. He launched it at the door and hauled himself up. In no time at all, he had unlocked the front door. He climbed back down.

“Somebody has to open the door and somebody has to lead Deuce out.”

All the toys moved towards the door and grabbed a section. Even the grouchy Weasel helped. 

“I’ll get Deuce,” Foggy promised and ran off, with Matt at his heels.

“Foggy, wait!”

“I can do this, Matt!”

“Never said you couldn’t but I’m still coming with you!”

“Deuce! Where’s my good boy!”

Deuce lit up at Foggy’s voice. He tried to wag his tail in the cramped crate. Matt climbed the bars of the crate with a speed and efficiency that Natasha would have admired and turned his attention to the lock. He had it open in under a minute.

Deuce rushed out and joyfully crashed around the room, knocking things over and being a menace. Foggy laughed out loud. 

“You’re gonna like being free, Deuce. Come on, there’s a good boy.”

Deuce followed Matt and Foggy as they cheered him on and praised him. 

In the hallway, the other toys had managed to get the front door open. Cool air rushed in. 

“Go, Deuce, go!” they cried, and Deuce rushed past them without a second glance. Foggy really hoped he wouldn’t get hit by a car. 

“Wait, look!” The toys closed the door all but a fraction and peered outside.

A man was walking when Deuce bounded up to him. He was tall and bald, with a scarred face. He looked scary but he broke out in smiles when Deuce licked his hand.

“Aw, look at the doggy! You’re a cutie. Who do you belong to, boy? Oh, there’s a note on your collar. Huh. It says you had a bad owner and need a new one. So, your name is Deuce, huh? Nice to meet ya. My name’s Wade. Come on, Deuce. I’m gonna help you find a new owner, okay? I have a friend and I think she’d love you.”

The man led the dog away and the toys cheered.

Foggy suddenly remembered a little girl who was surely missing him very much. “Cassie! I gotta go next door. Matt, come on!”

Nat cast a thoughtful glance at them. “I know you have a kid to get home to, Foggy, but you, the guy in black. You were really useful. We could use somebody like you to help us, now that Fisk is gone. You can help us distribute the buttons and batteries to the toys, and help us keep the rats at bay. I’m going to have my hands full keeping Jake out of trouble. I confiscated his glue so he’s not happy about that. Marc is livid. And nobody knows where that snake, Wesley, has gone. He’s AWOL, which is concerning.”

Matt shook his head gravely. “All I’ve wanted, since I first left my box, was to have a purpose. And living here and helping you guys would certainly keep me busy. But Scott bought me, and I have to stay with him. It’s not the choice I would have made but it’s all I can do. I’m sorry.”

Matt and Foggy walked back to Scott’s house in silence.

When they finally sneaked inside, Foggy knew he only had a few minutes to steal away into Cassie’s suitcase. She was still here. He could hear her voice. But he had to settle things with Matt.

“I suppose I can’t convince you to go with me,” Foggy said pleadingly. “You could live in my dollhouse with me. We could play together. We could—” He remembered his dream, Matt placing the gold band in his hair.

“Cassie doesn’t want a defective doll. Let’s…keep this short and sweet, shall we?” Matt’s smile dropped; He looked miserable. “I’ll — I’ll never forget you, Foggy.”

“You can still see me. She’s got to visit her dad again sometime, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Cassie! You got all your stuff?” Scott’s voice sounded very close. Matt dragged Foggy into a shadowy corner.

“I’m not leaving without Foggy!”

“Cassie, please! Mom’s gonna bust my ba…uh…briefcase if I don’t take you back to her in time. Come on, kiddo. I’ve got plenty of toys you can take with you.”

Matt and Foggy snuck back into Cassie’s bedroom but she wasn’t there. Her suitcase was, though. On the bed. They climbed the bed, Matt giving Foggy a boost. Matt’s clothes, the grey suit and glasses, were lying on the blankets.

Matt glumly put them back on. He left his sock clothes hidden under a pillow.

“I like the black clothes, but I like your suit too. You’re one of a kind, Matt.”

Matt grinned. “Stop buttering me up. Get in the suitcase, Foggy.”

“Yes, Mr. Scary Daredevil.” Foggy winked and opened the latch. But before he could climb inside, Scott walked in.

Matt and Foggy froze.

“Oh, for fuck’s…Cassie! The troll is here! You must have put him here and forgotten!”

“FOGGY!” Cassie screamed, and for a few minutes, chaos reigned in the bedroom. Cassie hugged Foggy again and again and he smiled with joy and relief at being reunited with his kid.

“Okay, put Foggy in the suitcase so he won’t go walkies again. Is this one of yours — oh no, I bought that one. Heh, I got him for you ages ago.”

Matt was being held by Scott, the man looked him over. He tucked Matt’s tie back into his jacket. “Great clothes. Very Wolf of Wall Street. Shame about the face.”

“Can I have him?”

“You don’t want him, do you? Look, his eyes are messed up.“

Cassie snatched Matt up and cradled him to her chest. “I love him. I want to keep him, please.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! He’s Foggy’s best friend and they live together.”

“Okay, you’d better keep them then. Don’t want to break up a beautiful friendship,” Scott chuckled. “Here’s the box he came in. He’s a Lawyer Ken.”

Foggy clapped his hands to his mouth in the privacy of the suitcase. Of all the possible vocations, a lawyer?

After Cassie arrived home, her toys held an all-night party. Cassie slept blissfully through it which was just as well because the toys had a good reason to celebrate.

Everybody was pleased to see Foggy and shocked to hear of his adventures in the neighbour’s house. Matt shyly introduced himself (he kept his sunglasses on) but he warmed up after he had time to get to know everybody.

He begged the toys to tell him funny stories about Foggy and despite Foggy’s pleading, Marci regaled Matt with anecdotes about Foggy’s exploits.

As the party wound down, the toys shuffled sleepily to their toy boxes in the storage unit where Cassie neatly kept all her stuff.

Foggy headed for the dollhouse where he lived alone.

“You wanna come back to mine?”

Matt chuckled. “You are one smooth troll.”

In the dollhouse, they sat on the fabric couch with a Barbie blanket thrown over them.

“Thanks for taking a chance on me. And Cassie.”

“She’s a sweet girl. Maybe I was wrong about kids. I used to have a friend, he put some mixed-up ideas in my head. I became cynical. But I don’t want to be like that anymore.”

“You can still be Daredevil here. Granted, we don’t have evil porcelain dudes and stuff, but I’m sure there are things you could do.”

Matt slid his glasses off his nose and placed them on the plastic, turquoise coffee table. “I’d rather be Matt Murdock for a while. Daredevil was my way of feeling useful in an environment where I believed I was worth nothing. But being with you has made me realise there’s more to being a toy than I thought. I never thought I’d fall in love, I thought that it was something that toys like me would never know. I love you, Foggy.”

Foggy kissed Matt’s glossy, plastic lips and felt content. They had been through Hell to get here but the peace he felt right now was something he believed he had earned. Matt was the only toy for him, and hopefully, he and Foggy would spend the rest of their lives together.

Matt settled in quickly and soon became an active member of the toy community. He and Foggy were very happy. But there was one more surprise in store.

“Cassie, come here!” Cassie’s mom called. “Bring Foggy.”

Cassie had been playing with Matt and Foggy so she picked them up and took them to the kitchen together. She set them down on the counter facing each other. Foggy beamed at Matt.

“We got him from the thrift store, didn’t we? I went on eBay and found out what kind of troll he is. That’s your troll, isn’t it?” She angled her laptop screen towards Cassie. It showed a troll who looked just like Foggy, blond and peach-skinned, wearing a grey suit and tie.

“Yeah!”

“I’ve ordered some clothes from this seller, your Foggy will have the clothes he was supposed to have all along, the ones he would have worn when he was first sold.”

“Thanks, Mommy. Foggy will be so happy.” Cassie gazed at the computer screen and read the words out loud. “Lawyer Troll. Wow, Foggy is a lawyer!”

Foggy tried not to grin. Matt’s face was a picture.