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With the metallic click of the locking mechanism, the door to Roxanne’s room slid open, allowing access for the wolf to step inside. Her ears still seemed to ring from the uproarious cries of the crowd, and the blinding intensity of the spotlights left the autofocus in her eyes struggling to readjust to the notably darker interior. None of that, however, was enough to ruin her sense of relief knowing that her day was finally over. Roxanne was out of view, alone in her room with nobody to see… so she allowed her body to fall forward onto its knees, arms wrapping tightly around her torso as an eruption of shivers clutched at her. All day she had been trying to keep it down, to stop anyone from seeing her do this, and now that she was alone, she had no willpower left to suppress them. For almost a full minute, that was all she could do: break down and shiver, her natural instinct taking over her unnatural body.
Ever since she had been trapped here, dealing with endless cold had become a daily struggle. Her new body didn’t have any sort of temperature gauge, so theoretically, neither cold nor heat should have had any impact on her. However, it wasn’t her body that was chilled to its very core. It was her soul, her residual being that had bound itself to the vessel of Roxanne Wolf. Whatever part of her humanity remained, it didn’t like the new form it was occupying, constantly longing for a warmth it couldn’t physically obtain. No matter how many blankets she hid underneath, no matter how many warm clothes she tried to fit onto her inhuman body, it never did anything to stop her endless shivering, the constant phantom numbness in her artificial fingers. If Hell had in fact frozen over, she had a feeling that she was currently residing in it.
It hadn’t always been like this, of course. She didn’t remember much, including her own name, but she still had fond memories of her original body, of the hair rolling down her shoulders and the sun beating against her skin, of the sensations of touch and taste. She had friends, a life… but then she died. The exact circumstances weren’t entirely clear in her mind and trying to dredge up those memories usually made her head hurt, but she had no doubts about how the story ended. She died… and yet, she was still here. Trapped in the body of an animatronic wolf, an invader within her mechanical form. No nerves, no senses, not able to feel anything but that endless chill encompassing her soul.
Once she managed to work through all the violent shivers she had been suppressing throughout the day, Roxanne struggled to her feet, keeping her arms bound tightly around her chest as she walked to fetch the blanket folded neatly on the sofa against the wall. It never did help much; her body didn’t generate any real heat for the blanket to retain, but just the act of wrapping it around herself made her feel a touch less hopeless. In the same sense, the space heater she had requested be installed in her room didn’t help, as no part of her body could detect the warmth it generated, but sitting next to it, in some way, helped to reduce the trembles of her freezing body, if not warming her up directly.
Roxanne had hoped that Summer finally coming around would have made all of this easier. She’d expected it to be nice, to be able to stand outside and let the heat of the sun soak into her synthetic body, but the reality of the situation made that impossible for two reasons. First, being confined to the Pizzaplex meant that the only sunlight she could enjoy was whatever managed to pierce the large exterior windows near the entrance, but the second problem made even that small reprieve worthless. To combat the summer sun, the entire building was constantly pumped full of air conditioning, ensuring that no heat could linger in the air around her. While she shouldn’t have been able to feel it just as she couldn’t feel the warmth of her space heater, she could swear that it was still affecting her, making it that much harder to conceal her constant need to shiver.
Despite how fruitless the pursuit of warmth had always proved, Roxanne still felt the urge to continue it anyway, if only to try and cling to a placebo effect. Holding her legs to her chest as tightly as possible, sitting as close to the heater as she could manage without the heat singeing her blanket, anything to try and ease the chilling numbness that had taken residence within her. A harsh tremble made the wolf close her eyes, claws digging tighter into the fabric of her blanket as she tried to coil it more tightly around herself.
With her vision blocked, it almost felt like she was floating. The senses of her metallic limbs were nothing like those of her past body, and it felt like no matter how much time had passed, she had never gotten more used to it. Without sight, it felt like she was barely attached to the world, an entity floating aimlessly under the surface of a frozen lake, invaded from all directions by sharpened fragments of ice digging straight into her heart. She was lost, trapped in her own endless abyss of shivering agony, her hands too frozen to reach out for help. Eventually, however, a series of echoing, heavy footsteps forced her mind back into the present.
Her head snapped to the sound, staring at the entrance to her room as it slowly drew closer. A rasping, metallic knock clicked against the door, each individual thump managing to spike Roxanne’s anxiety. A familiar voice spoke up, the feminine tone mixed with the mild static of the speaker creating it. “Roxanne? Are you in there?”
Chica’s question hung in the air as the wolf struggled to find an answer for it. If she spoke, the clicking of her teeth would instantly give away the fact that she was unwell, and she didn’t have time to force herself back into a calm, concealed state of mind. She couldn’t talk her way out of this, so in her mind, the next logical step was to maintain silence and wait for Chica to go searching elsewhere.
A second round of knocks echoed through the room, though Roxanne was at least more prepared for the encore performance. Just leave already, a voice in her head echoed, dread already forming from the idea of having to answer the door in such a miserable state. That dread, however, was nothing compared to the one she felt as she heard the muffled beep of a security pass being scanned, unlocking the door from the other side. She could only stare as her one line of defense slid open, a familiar guitarist peering into the room and locking eyes with the trembling pile of metal currently huddled within a knit blanket.
“Roxanne?” The synthetic words held an undertone of concern as the animatronic stepped closer, holding her hands out in a gesture of peaceful intentions. “Are you okay? You look… pained.”
“D-don’t l-l-look at m-me!” The words came naturally, the harsh bite behind them more fueled by the influence of the animatronic’s personality than her own. It was hard to fight that insecure, self-centered algorithm occupying the same body she was, especially when emotions were high. “I c-c-can’t be s-seen like, t-t-, this… l-leave!”
The performer visibly recoiled, though not to the extent that Roxanne was expecting. Chica, as she had noted in the past, always seemed more… human than the other animatronics. Freddy, Monty, both of them always felt artificial, conversations consisting of standard replies from a database of Fazbear Entertainment-approved dialogue. Only one of them seemed to have something deeper than that, some better understanding of feelings and empathy, and those traits were once again put on display as the girl approached the trembling wolf. “Should I call maintenance? This doesn’t seem normal…”
“I-I’m, f-f-f-fine!” She hissed, deliberately turning her head away from the girl standing over her. “I’m just, c-c-, c, cold…”
Clearly, that answer wasn’t satisfactory, as instead of doing what she was told and leaving, Chica instead stepped closer, sitting on the floor just next to the chill-riddled animatronic. “Cold? We don’t have any sensors for temperature… are you sure it’s that? Maybe your motors are just on the fritz?”
The question, innocent as it seemed, was enough to push a multitude of feelings into the back of Roxanne’s throat. A simple question that had so many possible answers, yet none seemed to want to come out. She could lie, say that her motors were indeed acting up, but that would just land her back in the maintenance area for the night. She could tell the truth, but just the thought of doing so made another shard of ice embed itself into her soul. The last time she tried to make herself known as someone other than Roxanne, she was almost subject to a factory reset, and she had no idea if the few memories she had of her old life would survive such a procedure. She couldn’t lie, and she couldn’t tell the truth… so instead, she just suffered in silence, hoping in vain that Chica wouldn’t try to press further.
For several long moments, the two sat, the only sound beyond the hum of the heater being the clattering of Roxanne’s components as they shook under the blanket. There were no words that could be said, and every moment she felt Chica staring at her only heightened Roxanne’s sense of worry. Is she going to call maintenance? I don’t want to be opened up again… please just go, I--
Before her anxiety-riddled thoughts could spiral any further, her entire body rocked to the side, recoiling from the unexpected impact of Chica pushing into her. The wolf lowered her gaze to find both of the girl’s arms wrapped around her and the guitarist resting her head gently against her shoulder.
If Roxanne wasn’t already chilled to the core, she would have frozen up from being suddenly embraced like this. The shock was enough to leave her speechless for a few seconds while she tried to comprehend what was happening. “W-why are you t-t-touching m-me like t-t-that? It w-w-won’t, warm m-m, m-e up…”
A soft coo flowed from Chica’s noise box as she rubbed up to Roxanne’s side, the arms around her body tugging them closer together. “You shouldn’t get cold, Roxanne, but you apparently are. Your problem isn’t logical… and an illogical problem needs an illogical solution!” The chipper tone overtaking her voice would usually make Roxanne groan, but right now, she couldn’t help but cling to that audible optimism as Chica continued. “Maybe I can’t give you physical warmth, but I have some emotional warmth to share. It’s worth trying, right?”
At first, Roxanne wanted nothing more to pull away from the physical contact, to isolate herself and keep Chica away from her vulnerability… but the more she listened, the more her fight-or-flight instincts seemed to wane. She was still freezing, of course; her heart felt as if it was encased in ice, a chill that spread throughout every part of her and never seemed to fade. However, the trembling underneath her blanket seemed to ease slightly when feeling the weight of the animatronic leaning up against her. Slowly, in the gentle embrace of the guitarist, she felt herself starting to settle, lessening her pain if not fixing the problem itself.
The silence in the room around them was deafening, but oddly peaceful, with the only sound being the droning hum of the space heater. For the first time in months, Roxanne felt… calm. At ease, enough for her constant anxious thoughts to retreat from her mind, something she hadn’t experienced since she first arrived. Maybe, with some help, things wouldn’t be as hopeless as they always felt. She couldn’t warm her body, but so far, Chica was doing a wonderful job at warming her heart, and that was more than enough.