Chapter Text
The Glamrocks are no strangers to hide and seek. With kids, with staff, with each other, between rehearsals, between concerts, between shifts. What else are you supposed to do to pass the time in a place as expansive as the pizzaplex if not running around trying to choose between an endless selection of perfect hiding spots? This is why they exist, after all. They were built for fun.
(“Ready or not, little birds!”)
They were built for games.
(“Ha! I seeeee you, kid!”)
They were not
(“Ohhh Chicaaaa, where aaaaare”)
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
built
(“Ha! Found you, Rox”)
KZZT-AWK-KZZT.
for this.
Chica’s always been good at this, she’s supposed to be good at this. Her branded location is a maze, for god’s sake! She’s got the highest K/D ratio of the whole staff when it comes to Fazer Blast! If anyone in the building is suited for navigating a smoky room, hell, finding someone in a smoky room…
But this isn’t a maze. This isn’t a laser tag court. This is a massive family entertainment center, and it is on fire, and it’s already a miracle that she’s even able to walk after her little visit to the trash compactor-
(she doesn’t blame the kid even though it hurts and it was one of the scariest moments of her life and she can’t hate the techs who had to install pain sensors in their frames but she sure as shit can hate whoever decided they needed them in the first place and she hates the thing in her head that gave the kid every reason he needed to kick her into that compactor but she can’t hate the kid-)
-and as if that wasn’t enough, the person she’s trying to track down isn’t exactly in her right mind. None of them have been in their right minds tonight, in her defense, and nobody should expect it of them after what’s been done to them. She couldn’t walk a straight line on steady ground if she wanted to, tripping down more stairs than she’d realized were in the building. Monty can’t walk at all. And Roxy…
(“It’s cheating to use your eyes like that, Roxy!”
“Whaddaya want me to do, Birdy, play with my eyes closed?”
“It’s a start!”)
She has to get Roxy out of here. They can figure out what to do next, how to fix Roxy’s face and Monty’s legs and her own beak, once they’ve survived the fire. When they survive the fire, because now Chica knows they can hide in the DJ’s tunnels, they just have to find each other, make it back up to the third floor, make it there in…as few pieces as possible. That’s easier said than done, though. She feels like she’s falling apart faster than the pizzaplex, which is a feat in itself.
(“Ha! Wh-what’s wrong, Chica, getti-getting tired already?”
“Says the robot running on less charge than a double-A battery. You can use my charging station, my green room is closer.”
“Fiiiine. R-race you there!”
THUD.
Sigh. “Doofus.”)
Something explodes nearby, and Chica lurches to the side, hitting a soot-stained surface with a staticky gasp and a crack as her shoulder pad snaps. Something overhead shifts with a roar like a dying beast, like a great creature whose jaws are clamping shut around them to devour everyone left in the building. There’s not much time left, Chica needs to move now, but she hasn’t charged all night and her HUD keeps flashing warnings that her batteries are damaged and god knows the constant searing heat can’t be helping with that and she’s scared and she’s lost and more than anything she is tired.
She wants to leave. She wants to rest. She wants-
“WHERE A-AR-ARE YOU?”
Roxy.
It’s unbelievable. It’s incredible. She’s right there, stumbling around in the smoke, and all Chica has to do is move, steer her upstairs and through the path of destruction the DJ left on the way to dig them out, take to the tunnels and wait out the nightmare, but she’s just so tired. The ceiling continues to groan overhead, architecture collapsing and shattering floor tiles with horrendous crashes, and Roxy clutches her head with a sob, the damaged wires in her eyes sparking like electric tears. Chica’s been watching her all night, has seen her lunge for the slightest sound in a desperate rage, and she hates herself for not being strong enough to break the violet chains holding her hostage within her own processor and go to her side.
The cacophony of the area is too much, and Roxy starts to stumble off, and if Chica had a physical heart it would be dropping into her stomach. She has to stop her. She has to call out. She has to move.
But she can’t. She can’t move. She can’t even speak.
But she can
(“Hahaha, holy shit!”
“It’s not funny, Roxanne, don’t startle me like that!”
“Oh but it’s soooo cute when you make that noise!”
“I’ll show you cute, you little-”)
“bbbbzzkzkzkzzAWK!”
The sound, more a strategic jumbled mess of static and screeching components, almost literally rips out of what’s left of her throat, tapering off with a wheeze that sounds too bloody and wet to be coming from a robot. But it works. Somehow, it’s broken through the din of the inferno, because Roxy’s head snaps to the side, aimed right at her, and once again, Chica puts her heart in the cruel hands of hope.
“Chi-ica?”
Chica can’t even cry out anymore, but her stubborn commands to MOVE GOD DAMN IT finally connect, and she manages to stumble a trembling half step forward.
Roxy takes her own steps closer, shrinking the distance between them.
It’s a miracle.
But who said all miracles had to be good?
Overhead, something creaks, and cracks, and snaps, and as Chica finally realizes where, exactly, she is, and what, exactly, has been above her this whole time-
ashesashesweallfall
-the elevator comes crashing down.
The world goes dark, and everything hurts, and when the smoke and static clear Chica’s suddenly aware that she’s been clawing at the ground so hard it’s peeling chunks of tile from the floor. The exhaustion of dwindling energy reserves and damaged metal nerves gives way to frenzied self preservation, but there’s only so much she can do with a red hot chunk of metal and glass pinning her leg in place like a trap around a shrieking mouse.
“Chica? What was that? Where ARE you???”
Chica’s mad scramble to pull herself out falters as Roxy passes by, just inches out of reach, and god, she wishes she was still capable of screaming.
I’m here, Roxy, I’m right here, please-
Roxy chokes out a staticky sob, curling in on herself with a hurt whine. “Why won’t you answer me?”
A robot’s blood shouldn’t be capable of running cold. An animatronic spine shouldn’t have the nerves for a cold chill. But Chica’s never been one to pay any mind to her lack of a proper stomach, and she can feel it turning. She hadn’t realized. She never considered-
“Everybody still loves me…right?”
yes we do yes of course we do we do roxy we still love you i still love you say something god damn it SAY SOMETHING
“Greeeeegoryyyy!”
ANYTHING BUT THAT.
“I am…still beautiful…”
of course you are you always have been you always will be are you still in there are you fighting like i’m fighting i promise it’ll be ok please just hold on please
“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”
Roxy doesn’t know. She lost her eyes before Chica lost her voice. Roxy doesn’t know.
Roxy doesn’t know and Roxy is leaving.
CLANGCLANGCLANG
Roxy stops, swaying on her feet, a grey silhouette nearly melting into the distant smoke and flickering orange of an atrium turned to abaddon.
CLANG CLANG CLANG
Roxy turns, and Chica clutches the fragment of metal so tight she can feel a wire snap in her fist.
CLANGCLANGCRASH
The strikes reverberate through the metal pinning her leg, the last impact sending her fist through a pane of weakened glass painfully, but it’s worth it. Roxy takes a step forward.
“Chica?”
And that’s when the building
explodes.
.
..
...
..
.
“WHAT IN THE-” “SON OF A-” “OH SHIT.”
“Oh, now who’s using unapproved language, asshole?!”
“Can we fight about this when we aren’t RIGHT NEXT TO A BUILDING WE SET ON FIRE?”
“Of course, Superstar, we should-”
“Wait a minute DID YOU TWO DO THIS-?”
.
..
...
..
.
(“Aww, look at that! Your first fanart! I told you they’d love you!”
“...Is, uh…is my makeup really that messy?”
“Hmmm. Yes.”
“Pfft, shut up, Birdy.”)
……please say something.