Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The factory seemed empty, which was weird. 

And locked, which was even weirder.

Pattin stared up at the looming walls above them, mottled yellow and long chimneys. It was still puffing smoke, so someone had to be inside, still no? 

Ten long years. 

Ten, long, years.

Pattin had only spent three years at PlayCo., but for some reason, they felt torn, like that minuscule amount of time actually mattered. 

Well, it had, hadn’t it? Rich, Nicole, the rest of the Shipping crew, and those outside of the district- had mattered. 

“Shipping is a family, Pattin. We look out for each other, yeah?”

I’d missed them, more than I realised. Emotional regulation was a fickle thing, one Pattin tried their best with, but to say not everything was expressed was an understatement of the fricking century. 

Why am I here? This isn’t fucking Scooby-doo. 

Pattin’s hand drifted to their bag, touching where the note sat wrapped in denim. It almost burned through the fabric, taunting, haunting Pattin’s every thought. 

Everyone thinks the staff dissapeared 10 years ago.

Wer’e still here.

FIND THE FLOWER. 

The writing? Crude.

The spelling? Terrible.

Was Pattin worried? Abso-fucking-lutely.

The note had come with a recording of the advertisement for Poppy, the creepy ass looking doll. Pattin had never been big into dolls, much to their mother's dismay. 

They paced outside the locked door, frowning. PlayCo. never slept. It was like a restless beast of a machine, howling and clawing and hissing in its production. Pattin thought it was ridiculous for the toy factory to run at night, mostly because they almost got fired for breaking a conveyor belt.

I mean, they shouldn’t have put me on for three back-to-back night shifts and expected me to run around like a headless chook! 

Pattin huffed, shifting around the side, away from the main doors. They studied the old walls and dulled paint. Everyone thought all the coworkers had vanished. Pattin had…. Well. They really hadn’t come to believe that, even though everyone told them it was foolish. They offered up as much as they could to the investigation, but they truly had nothing helpful. They were some back-of-the-screen runner kid. They weren’t anything special. 

Useless. 

Pattin paused outside one of the windows, blinking at the shattered glass. 

Ohhhhh, management would be pissed. 

They grinned a little, amused, shrugging off the bag, going to toss it through the broken glass. 

Pattin paused at the last moment. 

Were they really going to do this? 

Pattin thought of Rich, the older, hairy bloke who ruffled their hair when he was pleased with them. 

Pattin thought of Nicole, who always pulled pranks, even when it pissed off the higher-ups, and remembered people’s birthdays.

Pattin thought of the kids they saw during their supply deliveries to PlayCare, how they were always excited to see them, and how they’d let the little hands braid their rat tails, and measure them to see how long they were when they were first growing them out. 

Pattin's heart steeled over, and they exhaled sharply, tossing the bag through the window. 

Yes. 

They had to see them again. 

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The glass shards crunched under Pattin’s converse as they landed on the floor. 

A feeling of dread crept up their spine, and Pattin swallowed thickly, already having second thoughts. 

It was so quiet. 

PlayCo. was never this quiet. 

Something was horrifically wrong. 

Get a grip, idiot. They huffed, shaking their head before scooping up the strap of their messenger bag, slinging it over their shoulder. 

They were in the gift shop. 

I really have missed this place, haven't I?

The little train chugged along on the tracks about their head, and Pattin smiled at the boxes of toys.

Boxes… they realised as they got closer, were empty. Huh. Weird. 

People probably broke in and stole them, or something. They turned to the counter and blinked at the little boogie bot on the bench. 

Poor little guy, it was completely filthy as Pattin moved closer, brushing their fingers across the little screen. The dirt came away like dried paint, thick and crumbling, and Pattin grimaced, wiping their hands on their pants. 

Ew. 

They left the gift shop to enter the main lobby. Isla worked here- Pattin remembered with a smile- they’d trade off getting each other coffees, and sometimes snacks. Seeing her tired face and slight smile late in the afternoon after school was always a positive start to a long day of running shit around for people. 

I hope she’s okay. Maybe we can go out for coffee when I find her.

The little, silly rotating gates weren’t working, but peering past them, Pattin realised they needed a grab pack. Were there some in security, right??? Pattin frowned, and their eyes caught a bright green VHS tape sitting on the counter. They blinked at it, frowning. 

Who left this lying around? This place really has gone to shit. They looked over to the TV and VHS player, before shrugging, picking it up and slotting it in.

The screen flickered, going pale blue before black, what looked like Huggy Wuggy’s hand outstretched in his signature waving and/or greeting pose. Then a voice spoke.

"Hi, my name is Leith Pierre, and I'm the head of innovation here at the Playtime Co. Toy Factory.”

Pattin instantly wrinkled their nose, annoyed—this guy. Pierre has always made Pattin feel uneasy; something about the way he talked and looked at people set them off with big red alarm bells. They silently narrowed their eyes at the screen.

“If you're seeing this, then you're trespassing! Yeah, we play this little tape on loop whenever we close the factory for the day. So trespasser, just to make you aware. While we pride ourselves primarily on our high-quality toys and excellent childcare, we also pride ourselves on our security.”

Yeah… nah, I’m done with this bullshit. With a very firm and rather bratty motion, Pattin flipped off the recording as they turned on their heels to head into the security wing.

They glare at the massive ‘Poppy wants to play!’ poster on the wall, moving to be as far away from the damn thing as possible. 

Ah. The lock. All the locks were rather childish, in Pattin’s opinion, pressing each colour with a little more force than necessary. I mean, it was painfully obvious. And who put the code to the staff-only room in a gift shop where many kids would be??

Pattin rolled their eyes. Red, yellow, pink, green. The door trilled happily and opened with a rusted creak. 

All of the computers were down- none of them were working, and the room was rather dusty. Pattin did their damn best not to sneeze loudly. On the far wall- another table, with a blue tape staring expectantly at them, and on the other side, another monitor and player. 

Between them, the grab pack was concealed behind glass.

Pattin snorted. 

Yeah. No thanks.

They picked up one of the old chairs and, using the leg, smashed the glass, then dragged out the grab pack from its little shelf. 

They left without even touching the VHS. 

Pattin did practice, and for only three years of working at PlayCo. and then a sudden 10-year gap; using the grab pack came back to them rather naturally. They only have the blue hand- but knowing PlayCo. there was bound to be another station somewhere. 

Pattin swung their body over the little entry gate, paddling up to fire the blue hand to unlock the gate into the factory’s main floor. 

The gate shuddered as it slid up, revealing the cute little tunnel that led out into the main foyer- and to the Huggy Wuggy statue. Even all these years later, Pattin’s heart trembled in small, child-like hope. 

Welcome to…

Playtime Co.

“Hey, buddy,” Pattin mumbled, looking up at the massive blue statue, the smile, the soft, wild fur, the outstretched hand, welcoming all those who came through the doors. They could still remember a time when they begged their parents for one of them. 

“It’s been a long time, huh?”

Chapter Text

They smile up at the statue, remembering their first day seeing it - staring up at it in wonder and hope, before being ushered off for their rather brief introduction to their first workstation. 

Sure, the work environment… wasn’t the greatest… but the dream, the dream made it worth it. 

Pattin adjusted the grab pack and shot out the single hand to hi-five the massive Huggy. They laughed to themselves, amused. 

The room was a massive cylinder, with light coming in from slits in the dome. Along the walls, there were doors to various areas of the factory: Testing, Innovation, Theatre, Cafeteria, and Power. 

Pattin had never gone in any of them; they usually used one of the two metallic, nameless roller doors on either side of Huggy —the one that only needed a blue hand to open. 

The other workers were probably deeper in the factory than this— if they were in Innovation or the Cafeteria or something, that would be too easy. 

A small, withering part of them felt this would be anything but easy, but they shoved that away and focused. The gate was down- literally, which meant that some of the equipment wasn’t working. 

Weird, given how there was light coming from Power. Pattin shrugged it off, moving to push the door open.

They nearly slammed face-first into it. 

“What the fuck???” 

Since when did these rooms get locked?

Behind them, a soft jangle of keys. 

Pattin froze, every hair on their body suddenly standing up. Not moving their body, they slowly turned their head over their shoulder. 

Nothing was different. Everything was the same. Nothing changed- were they paranoid? Were the delusions their brain made up finally catching up to them??? 

Light glinted off something in the statue's hand, and Pattin twisted their body to press their back to the wall, staring as if to urge the thing to move. 

There was a key. 

A key, in its hand, if you could call that oven mitt a hand- 

Maybe it’s friendly? 

“Heyyyyyy buddy…” Pattin murmured, like calming a wild animal. The statue, the statue, like a normal statue, didn’t move. They were losing it, surely.

“I’m just… going to take that.” 

They missed the first time, and they hastily recorrected the blue hand to yank the keys out of Huggy’s- THE STATUE, not ANIMAL, hand. 

Slowly, they backed up, never exactly turning their back to the thing, fumbling with the key to get into the lock without looking. 

They practically stumbled into Power.

It kinda looked like any generator room out of a comic strip or movie- lots and lots of large generators and cables spewing like guts everywhere. There were these massive poles—conductor poles, they had seen the engineering crew use them—and a couple of shelving units. A poster with Kissy Missy was on the wall, and Pattin tried not to overthink what had just happened with Kissy’s brother.

They weren’t trained for wiring - they wandered around before finding a panel with a handle, three handprints on it. What really caught Pattin's attention, though, was what was lying on the floor next to it. 

Another toy- not out of the ordinary. It was a Bron the dinosaur this time, except something had torn off its head and cracked the body repeatedly. 

Also not out of the ordinary- some kids play rough, after all. No, what was bizarre was the thick, red liquid oozing out of it. 

Was that..? 

No, no, it can’t be. Surely not- it’s a TOY for Pete’s sake!! 

Pattin swallowed past the dread and focused on the task at hand, opening up the panel.

So if they remember correctly from watching the engineers…. Pattin fired the blue hand that gripped the core of the... whatever thing this is, and started to move, pleased that the hand stayed put. 

So all they had to do was wrap around the poles, yeah? Should be easy!

The first pole made a zapping sound, and Pattin moved to the other pole, which was near the door.

A happy trill echoed through the building as the light flickered back on, and Pattin cheered in delight. 

And then of course, they turned around. 

And the Huggy ‘statue’ was gone. 

Panic rose in their chest, and suddenly they were reminded just how big that statue had been— handing out keys- that was one thing, but MOVING??? 

Their fist balled into the fabric of their grey shirt, backing away from the door like they expected the giant to peer through the little corridor at any time. 

They could leave. 

If they ran, they could make it to the reception again and come back.. with what?? A better plan??? More people??

Pattin swallowed- bouncing on their toes to sike themselves up, before sprinting out of the corridor- into the main foyer, and into the tunnel they came from to reception- 

BANG! 

Pattin’s hands slapped to their face as they landed on their ass, writhing in pain for a moment. 

“Fuuuuuuckkk, fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurts,” 

They’d run into a wall.

A gate. 

The gate. 

Oh no. 

They shuffled up to press their back to the gate, wincing in discomfort as their head rang from the collision. 

I’m trapped- I can’t get out.

Panic clawed at their lungs- and their throat, and Pattin tucked their legs up, trying to be as small as possible. They couldn’t see Huggy, which was insane - the thing was MASSIVE; it couldn't vanish into thin air! 

Stop it. 

Stop it. 

Pattin took a long, shaky breath in. You aren’t going to achieve anything here. 

Get up. 

Now walk.

All of the rooms were locked- and without Huggy and his free gifted keys, the only option was the route Pattin had taken a thousand times before. 

The make-a-friend route. 

The grid whirled as they pressed the blue hand to the sensor and started to wander down the corridor, feeling a lot smaller than they usually did. 

The end of the corridor was blocked with blocks, and the door—

Pattin went completely still as what was definitely Huggy’s arm slid into the doorway, the plush pressed up against the wall as it dragged out of sight. 

“Hah… haha, very funny guys!!” Pattin called out, trying their hardest not to sound like a strangled bird. “You can stop pranking me now! Was this Nicole’s idea?” 

Nothing. No sound, nothing at all. 

“Okay… I’m going to keep going then.” 

They tried the other door, ignoring the graffiti-covered plaque next to it that now read ‘Stairway to hell’.

They sighed as they begrudgingly nudged open the door Huggy (??) went through. 

It was pitch black. 

Blacker than black, the only light being at the very end. 

I hate this, I hate this so much, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. 

Pattin swallowed and ran. 

Their rat tails whipped behind them as they sprinted, and they bumped into a wall as a loud gush of steam burst from a pile, the hissing ringing in their ears as they ran for the light. 

It sounded like a snake. 

Pattin ploughed down the door with their shoulder, stumbling and staggering as they breathed heavily. 

They were shaking. 

God, I hate the dark. 

They were in a room attached to storage- they realised, much to their relief. Filled with a VHS player, massive storage bins, and a couple of boxes. 

Pattin had been here a million times- running shipments and bickering with the production team about where things needed to go. They jogged up the stairs, looking out from the platform that controlled the crane. It was… a mess, to put it lightly—boxes littered everywhere, as if people had abandoned their posts during peak production. The shelves were scattered with objects and items- one of the shelving units was knocked over entirely. 

And of course, the power grid wasn’t hooked up for the crane. Which wouldn’t matter if Pattin couldn’t see the red hand for their grab pack up on the other ledge. 

Too easy.

The first key was right next to the power grid- so Pattin easily plucked it up and slotted it into the correct blue slot. The railing was torn open, so Pattin hopped off onto a pile of surprisingly sturdy boxes and began the hunt for the remaining three. 

The yellow one was on top of a pile of boxes-

The green, hidden on the floor behind a shelf-

And the red, hidden at the very top of one of the shelves.

During their search, they found another VHS tape, a bright, sunshine yellow one. It was a struggle with three keys and the tape, but they managed to open the door connecting the rooms. They set the keys down and stuck the tape into its respective TV. 

Again, a flicker of pale blue appeared before the screen went black, followed by a flickering image of the crane Pattin had seen moments ago in the centre.

"Ugh, Rich, where are they keeping the Huggy boxes?"

Pattin recognised that voice - it belonged to a man that Pattin had seen Rich talk to often, usually about complaints.

"I don't know, I couldn't tell you! Remember when Maintenance last did a sweep of this place?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Pattin took a small step closer to the TV, something in them aching at the sound of their late supervisor’s voice. Rich. The person who looked out for all the people in shipping, who fought with the higher-ups to ensure their safety and well-being. Who didn’t abuse his power —leaving his door open to all who needed to talk, vent, or just sit and be quiet.

He cared. He cared so much.

Too much, sometimes.

He sounded so stressed. 

"No."

"Exactly! Nobody in this stupid company knows what they're doing. I swear, I haven't seen a single box in its place since they started flooding the storehouse with orphanage junk."

Oh, Rich…

Pattin knew that Rich took a lot of the heat for others and often felt the pressure from the other high chairs pressing him under their thumb to do things. But we were all human- there’s only so much you could expect.

"Right..."

"I get it, it's a nice program and all, on-brand, but" 

A long, tired sigh. Pattin could practically see that salt and pepper hair, how his dimples faded, and the creases under his eyes became more visible. He was probably pinching the bridge of his nose. He always did that when stressed..

"It's just hard to be happy when Manufacturing is on OUR NECKS about it, 'cause we can't find stupid Huggy boxes!"

"Rich..."

Another sigh, a little more defeated this time.

"You're right... You're right... It's.. It's for the orphans... I just wish there were fewer boxes. Anything less would be more abidable. - I-is that even a word? Abidable." 

I couldn’t help but chuckle, even a little, smiling weakly up at the screen. 

Don’t worry, Rich. We’ll go out for drinks - all of us in the shipping crew, even! Like the family you always talked about. 

The TV spat out the VHS, and this time, Pattin took it, tucking it into their bag, just in case. 

Gathering up the keys again, they climbed the stairs to insert them into the correct slots. 

One of the overhead conveyor belt doors slammed shut, making them jump. It’s probably broken. It’s fine. They told themselves, pretending like they didn’t see the blur of blue as it closed. 

Pattin silently slotted the last key into place- and watched as the crane whirled to life. 

It groaned and creaked, whirring loudly as it slowly creaked over to the red hand—a flickering light beam spilled from its maw of mechanical teeth. 

It curled into the casing of the red hand, pulling it from its perch and dropping it onto the conveyor belt below. The glass shattered- spilling everywhere. 

Pattin smirked a little. They had always wanted to wreak a little havoc here and there, and this felt like compensation. After all, not a lot management could do for the damage they caused if they saved their stupid butts, right? Hah! 

They hopped off the ledge again, nearly falling over this time, jogging up to the hand. 

Equipping it was trickier- but eventually Pattin got it locked in place. 

That's probably the moment where they realised the only way forward was through the conveyor belt— the conveyor belt with a door locked with two hand panels— but more importantly, a conveyor belt with a door that said ‘DO NOT ENTER.’ 

To hell with it, I was never really good at listening anyway. 

The two hands hummed against the panels as the door groaned, slowly grinding open and stopping halfway, stuck. 

Pattin ducked under it, wandering the labyrinth of tubes and tunnels that made up the conveyor belts of the beast that was PlayCo.

Chapter Text

Pattin nearly falls on their ass again when they nearly slip down the smooth rolling bars that apparently existed.

Key word here: nearly.

Their converses squeak angrily as they come to a stop before they slam headfirst into another door, and promptly frowned. 

A little investigation later- there was a fucking puzzle in here. 

‘Do not enter, ’ my ass. How would anyone be able to power this if we weren't allowed in here? Unbelievable. 

The puzzle was completed, the door opened, and Pattin wobbled as the conveyor belt beneath their feet whirled to life.

Oh heck yeah!!!

They beamed, shifting to lean more on one leg, content as the conveyor belt did the work for them. 

It was a nice change of pace, at least, more so with everything they’d been dealing with.

BREEEH.

They jumped, startled by the sudden red flash of lights, before a compartment above their head suddenly opened and an armful of things descended upon them. Pattin caught one and stared down into the cold eyes of a baby's head. 

They screamed. 

“WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK-” they tossed it, the plastic- it's plastic, you idiot, it’s a toy, we’re in a TOY FACTORY- head hitting the conveyor belt with a dull thunk.

BREEEH.

A panel on their left suddenly opened - another swarm of toy parts flooded around their feet, making them squirm uncomfortably and curl in on themselves to appear smaller.

BREEEEEEH.

Another one on the right —and now Pattin was ankle-deep in toy parts. 

Ewewewewew. They are so much cuter when together, why is this so creepy!!! 

They yelped as the conveyor belt cut off to a sharp incline, slipping on the rolling metal bars and only just able to slow their fall on the metal rim of the opening —into one of the vats in the Make-A-Friend room. Thank god for the glass of this vat being smashed- Pattin knew how thick the glass was, and between how jittery they were now, and their terrible claustrophobia, they really didn’t need another panic attack. 

Being very, very mindful of the massive shards of glass, Pattin managed to get their feet safely onto the ground without cutting themselves. 

They’d always loved the Make-A-Friend machine. 

They thought the idea that no child left without a toy was endearing—though some of the amalgamations the kids made were quite something.

They thought the machines were very cute —if not a little silly, with their big, googly eyes. They were shut now, and as Pattin moved to the control panel, they were met with an understandable message. 

Needs Power. 

Power comes from the wiring above, right? Pattin looked up, squinting into the darkness. There were catwalks above, so maybe there was another one of those stupid puzzles. They knew they needed a toy to open the door behind them- seeing how the Make-A-Friend machine worked had been a part of their “special employee tour” when they first started, after all. 

They headed over to the stairs, jumping the low gate to keep the little people out, only hesitating a little to look at the poster. 

Fostering happiness

Adopt an orphan TODAY! 

They smiled, exhaling softly. They’d always hoped that when they were older, they could adopt one of the kids from PlayCare- the uterus was a horrible organ, and why would Pattin make a kid - and pass on their rather terrible mental health issues - when there were so many pure, sweet souls in need of a family? 

Maybe….

Pattin exhaled, shaking their head as they started up the stairs. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves yet. I'm only 25, I’m not ready for a kid. Also, with my weak heart, I’d definitely adopt, not foster, so let’s pin that idea.

They reach the top of the stairs —and there’s another TV, this one a hot pink. 

Another VHS? Who’s… who’s even leaving these around??? And all the way up here as well?

Pattin shrugged it off, having to drag half of the catwalk across to walk across it. 

Oh! 

“Who put you there?” They mumble, amused as they grab the pink tape sitting on a tiny ledge on the wall. 

The tape whirled when Pattin stuck it in; the screen flickered black with what looked like a glove. It was hard to tell.

"So, Stella, what made you want to work at the Playtime Co. factory?"

Stella. Another hopeful toy enthusiast. Pattin’s heart swelled, smiling. Rich had always compared the two of them, noting their love for bringing joy to the kids and those around them. Pattin had seen her lots when they first started, but by the end of their first year, they rarely saw the woman. Moved to a different station, they were told.

"Playing with toys when I was young was so magical. I could go straight from my bedroom floor to anywhere in the world. It was such a great feeling. And... being able to work at a toy factory... somewhere that can provide kids with that same experience... That's a pretty great feeling too!”

A slight pause.

“Sometimes though... I really, really wish I could go back. To being a kid, I mean. And it's weird, 'cause... adults are just kids, but older! I don't think anyone ever really feels like an adult. But your body just gets older... and older... and then you die. Poof!” 

She laughs, and Pattin tilts their head a little, a bit weirded out.

“Human bodies just can't stay young forever. There are things, though, like some trees that can stay alive even while being way older than a person! I mean, the oldest people to ever live are STILL younger than those! So I guess everyone is always young relative to something... Right?" 

"Alright, I think we're getting a little off-track."

“Well… that was super weird,” Pattin shrugged it off, leaving the tape where it was. Probably first interview jitters, or something. However, discussing aging and death during a job interview was somewhat unusual. 

Pattin moved on to the puzzle. 

It took them a few tries, but eventually they realised what they were doing wrong and finally had the machine trill its happy note of completion, a spark flicking off the line as it travelled to jumpstart the machine below. 

Thank fuck, that was awful. How do the Engineers do this all the time so fast???

They bolted down the stairs, taking two at a time as they ran up to the control panel, slamming the big red button with glee. 

A train horn softly tooted- and the eyes of the machine opened, smoke bellowing from the one in the middle as the machine took care of its task. 

Pattin ran over to where the conveyor belts spat them out and pulled the lever as they watched the grey parts fall onto the belt, being carried off into the machine.

Pattin followed the process - first, the parts were painted, then assembled, and finally checked for any flaws. 

It was a catbee that sat at the end of the line, and Pattin really hoped the kids felt the same thrill they did when they carefully took it from the belt. 

“I’m gonna call you Betty,” Pattin whispered to the toy, holding it close to their chest. 

They moved over to the door, Betty in their arms, before setting her on the podium to be scanned. The door whirled open, and it thankfully let Pattin retrieve Betty, pausing to tuck her into their bag alongside the tape of Rich. They merrily pet her head before moving down the corridor. 

The two doors are locked. Of course. 

They rolled their eyes, moving to the dark corridor with a slight grimace. They could really use a flashlight. 

Wait. 

Is… something moving in there? 

Pattin startled back, eyes widening in sheer horror- 

It was Huggy Wuggy.

The statue- creature?? Moved in a slow, but precise way, arms limply swinging as it stalked forward, towards Pattin. 

No strings, no hum of machinery. 

Like it was alive.

It was the sudden blaring of alarms that spooked Pattin into moving- as the once friendly smile split open into a wide grin of many, many sharp teeth- turning on their heels to bolt as Huggy’s stupid mitten hands grabbed at the air they were just standing in. 

The slider door that’s connected to the Make-A-Friend conveyor belt was open, and Pattin didn’t think twice before leaping up onto it and squirming under the gate.

They took approximately three steps before tripping, rolling down another fucking slope, and slamming into a grate.

They groaned, lying there for a minute, trying to catch their breath. 

It can’t get me in here, right?

Thump. 

Thump.

Thump.

“Augh, FUCK OFF,” Pattin unwisely yelled, scraping themselves to their feet to start running again. They turned a corner - there was that gaping maw, clambering towards them from the other direction. 

“FUCK-”

Pattin’s shoulder painfully collided with the corner of the door frame as they turned sharply, feet slipping on the stupid, stupid little bars. 

There was writing- colourful writing scrawled into the walls, don’t- no- no- run, RUN, RUN, GO, NO, TURN, GO FAST—

Something grabbed at their rat tails, and Pattin was suddenly yanked back by them and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. 

Huggy screamed, or shrieked, Pattin didn’t know, as they clawed frantically, dull nails digging into the fur to keep the monstrous head away from them, teeth gnashing together as drool dripped onto them. 

Oh my gods, I’m going to die.

No one is here by choice. Get up. 

What?

You can die later, get up.

Huggy screamed, the mitt that wasn’t pinning their braids down slamming next to their head. 

I still have plans for you.

Get up.

Get up.

GET UP. GET UP.

GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP—

Something dark and harsh grated against them, and now Pattin’s screaming to, heaving up a foot to kick the monster in the face, as hard as they could. 

Huggy’s now screaming for a different reason, reeling back, but not far enough to release their braids. 

A tooth fell into their lap, and it was bloodied, like that bron toy, like that boogie bot toy- they had blood in them—

I never said it would be easy. Get up.

Pattin grabbed the tooth and used the sharpened object to tear through their braids, right up where they connect to their scalp, tossing them at the creature before kicking themselves to their feet to continue to run for their life.

Their bag thumped against their back as Huggy howled and screamed behind them, the conveyor belts all smashed out of position, and it was barely a thought to ensure they didn’t roll an ankle in their mindless fleeing.

They could barely breathe. 

They could barely think past the screaming of their mind to flee as far away as they could.

Were the walls getting narrower? Or was it just them? 

They fell onto another conveyor belt, head ringing from the loud thumping that seemed so close behind. 

It rang and echoed through this awful place, and Pattin’s eyes felt wet, and their throat tight, and their chest burning, but they couldn’t stop running.

The writing was getting worse- red, yellow, pink and blue scrawled writing, warnings of danger, to turn back, to go away—

They hit another section of slippery bars and made the wise choice to drop onto their ass for this one, hair whipping in their face as they slid down a very steep slope. 

They rolled slightly, scrambling along the conveyor belt that was now exposed in an open part of the factory —the end, the path away, torn off. 

A door had closed- but Huggy was now bashing against it, and Pattin didn’t know how long that would last.

THERE! 

Adrenaline was a weird thing—half the time you just do and you don’t think. 

Huggy Wuggy burst through the doors, and Pattin fired both their hands to pull a massive crate down on top of it. 

The conveyor belt broke—and for a second, Pattin was weightless—before they found themselves in a heap on a catwalk, thankfully placed right under where they had been standing. 

Huggy wasn’t so lucky. It hit the railing of the catwalk with a sickening crack before sliding off the railing and falling. 

Its head hit a pole with a CLANG. 

Another. CLANG.

A third one. CLANG. 

Pattin silently watched as the monster vanished into the darkness of the factory. They stared at the red, bloody marks the beast left behind, staining the poles and pipes it hit. 

Pattin started to laugh. 

They laughed, a choked, ragged noise that had them hacking on flem, clawing at their chest, neck, face, and now they were sobbing, their voice breaking as they screamed, wailed, yanking at their hair, because holy shit they nearly died. 

They were shaking to the point that they were gripping, practically clinging to the railing to hold themselves up, fat, ugly, tears streaming down their face that joined Huggy in the abyss below. 

They felt like they were dying.

They sat there for a long time. Minutes? Hours? 

They didn’t know. 

They didn’t really care. 

Get up.

Pattin got up.

And they walked.

Pattin… had never been here before. Darkness swallowed the floor below- and Pattin still hadn’t heard the thump of Huggy hitting the floor yet. 

There were a few conveyor belts above, and the catwalk was a mess of paths over the abyss, and Pattin walked. They blinked, finally noticing the massive red poppy, painted onto the wall. In the centre, a door. 

Their foot hit something, and they looked down at the black tape.

Black like the darkness they could see through the bars of the catwalk. 

Pattin felt numb as they picked it up. 

They looked around, locating the TV. They still couldn’t think, brain buzzing insistently, like white noise. 

They didn’t like white noise. 

They inserted the tape.

A single, mechanical claw-like hand, nearly invisible against the black of the screen. 

"Final log. In relation: 1-0-0-6. The Prototype." 

"Coordination and cooperation are evidently within his skillset, as well as the skillset of all other experiments of his type."

"Though still missing, today's events are no doubt in relation to him. His absence was a flaw in the scientific process, which should have under no circumstances been left unaccounted for." 

"That's why I'm making this log: So that the same mistake won't be made twice." 

Every hair on Pattin’s body stood up. They had hoped- prayed, that it wasn’t- but in the background, amongst the pounding of doors, was screaming. People, screaming. The type of scream you make when your life’s in danger— when you're about to die.

I’m gonna be sick.

"Any future experiments will need to be contained and disposed of in a secure location." 

"I'm not worried about myself. One breakthrough and I'll be back. We must forge onwards in the name of science. Whether those who are beneath us understand it or not. End of-"

The tape cuts off, the last thing heard being the man’s voice, and the sound of something big running towards him. 

There are more of them. 

How is it that in a place filled with joy, love and care for children and their happiness, right under Pattin’s nose, people have been making monsters?

Unlike the other tapes, this one made a low static sound that made Pattin want to claw their ears off. 

They turned back to the flower, painted on the wall. 

Find the flower.

And Pattin forced themselves to walk again.

Chapter Text

Broken, bloodied toys hung from wires outside the door. 

Like a warning - a warning of what could happen if you enter. The same colourful writing was on the wall of the flower- scrawled ‘no, no, stop, run, danger, go back, turn around.’

“Fuck you.” Pattin plainly told the wall, shoving the door open. 

And they were met with some freaky, possessed doll movie-level shit. 

It was a long hall, decorated like an old home, with off-the-wall lamps, cream, flower-patterned wallpaper, and wooden floorboards. You have to be fucking joking.

They hesitantly wandered in, trailing down a set of stairs, glaring down the even longer corridor. The lamps weren’t bright enough to fully illuminate the corridor, and they left shapeless shadows on the walls that made Pattin curl in on themselves.

They passed through an open area, filled with toys. There was another door, but a closet was completely barricading it from access. Pattin frowned and kept walking.

They were getting closer to the end, the lights becoming more and more red. Red, like what was left behind when Huggy hit those poles. 

A set of double doors greeted them. They pushed them open, revealing a small room, and in the middle, bathed in red from the spinning light projector, was a case. 

And in the case?

A doll.

The doll.

Pattin stared at it, with its red, fucking red hair, pale, porcelain skin and blue puffy dress. 

They knew what was expected of them, though they didn’t know what a doll would do, to help save their friends. Was it alive? Like the others? Like Huggy? 

It didn’t seem to be.

Pattin swallowed and opened the case. 

The lights suddenly flickered, making them stumble back, as the doll's eyes snapped open and they stared up at them. 

“You opened my case…”

Pattin stared.

Nothing. 

Their body felt a little weird, almost weightless.

Were… were they falling??? Dying, even???

And under the stress of everything, Huggy, almost dying, the fact that there were living toys, Pattin fainted.

Thud.

……

……………

……………

……

Get up. 

Pattin used to love the PlayCo toy ads. 

Almost more than any show that actually played- other than the ones about the toys themselves, of course. 

The music, the commercial voice, the delight, and ways to play with the toy - it used to fill them with such excitement, having them point at the TV screen and beg their parents to look as well.

Their parents didn’t really seem to understand, muttering that it was “just another dumb commercial,” and if they wanted a toy, they had to “be good and wait for their birthday, don’t be ungrateful for what you have.”

They really just wanted to share the commercial, but maybe not everyone was like Pattin. They were different, in more ways than one, a social oddity in the grand scheme of society. 

Get up. 

Maybe that’s why they chose to work at PlayCo, all those years ago. Father pushed them to get a job, to be more “independent”, and when PlayCo. released a youth program to train young adolescents for the workforce - it was almost too good to be true. 

Get up. 

As if it was made for them, to be reunited with people who might finally get them. A place for them to belong. 

“Wake up.”

Pattin woke with a start, jerking up a little before slumping, like a puppet with cut strings. 

They were lying in a massive pile of pillows, cushioning them from every angle. Their eyes fluttered, lidded and heavy as they slowly sat up. 

Right. They must have passed out. They were still in the doll’s room, blinking blurrily in the darkness. 

The doll was missing, however. 

Joy.

Their body protested and groaned as they came to a stand, wincing. All that running had their legs shaking as they struggled to stand. 

Breathe. It'll be okay, hopefully. 

They wandered back down the hall to the little weird play area, they guessed. The hall on the other side was completely barricaded with shelves, but the closet that had covered the mystery door had been torn away and knocked over onto its side. 

Sure, because why the heck not. It wasn’t like they could leave, right?!

Hah! 

Hah…

Pattin shoved the door open and started down another hall. 

This one was back to looking like the factory, with two massive murals of Huggy Wuggy and Bron the dinosaur on both of the walls. 

Two doors. Pattin didn’t try them. 

They’d be locked, like all the others, put there as a false sense of hope that they had a choice.

Pattin was a rat in a rat race. They had no choice.

Pattin reached the end of the hall, and... 

And…

They stared.

The plaque, reading ‘ELLIOT LUDWIG,’ stared back at them, gilded in gold and bold, black letters. 

And Pattin… Pattin began to shake. 

“Raffle! Come on, our shift starts in five, what are you staring at???”

Raphael was the oldest of the small group Pattin dared to call family. They were strong, and kind, and so protective— standing up to anyone, and anything. They’d been in Pattin’s corner for the longest time, when no one else had been. 

They turned their head, huffing softly, a hint of a fond smile on their face as they moved over, bumping their hip against Pattin’s. “Nothing, kid, don’t worry about it.” 

Pattin snorted, arching a curious brow at the other. “You sure? Cause almost every Thursday, without fail, when we come in together, you stop at Ludwig’s office and… stare, ya weirdo.”

Rafa went a little pink, looking at Pattin in alarm, flicking a strand of dirty blonde hair out of their emerald eyes. “I don’t!! Right?”

The teen snorted. “Yaha. Like clockwork.” 

The eldest stuffed their fists into their pockets, sighing defeatedly. “Alright, alright… what is it gonna take to buy your silence?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you're talking about,” Pattin hummed, cheekily. 

“Patty, come on, work with me here. Like Charlie and the twins need more ammo on me!”

The shorter one giggled, hiding their large, toothy grin behind their hands. “Mmmm, let me think….” They pause, for the fun of it, moving their hands to play with their braids, running them through their fingers smugly. “I want… You to take me to the roller rink,” 

“The roller rink?” Rapheal echoed, arching a brow. 

Pattin nodded, grinning sharply. “The roller rink. And a bag of lollies. One of the big ones you can get for a dollar fifty. That’s what will buy my silence,”

Rafa hummed, thinking silently. Pattin bit their bottom lip, trying not to look like they were about to explode into glittery confetti. “Alright then. You drive a hard bargain, kid. I’ve taught you well.” Rafa joked, amused.

Pattin cheered, doing a little bounce on the spot. 

“Do you wanna spend the weekend at mine then? Or will I be picking you up from your parents?” 

‘Who would even want to be around you, anyway?’

Pattin shrieked, screamed, howled, punching the door as hard as they could.

Where did they GO?!

People-people don't just VANISH, RIGHT?????

Rich- Nicole, Pat considered them friends, a little bit like a family, on the clock, sure - but Raphael...

They wouldn’t have ignored them all this time, right?

Ten years. Ten years of waiting.

Of hoping. 

And sometimes, of hating. 

No one seemed to stay, no one seemed to want them, they were just too different, too strange.

Maybe, maybe, maybe they couldn’t call. Maybe they're here, trying to get back to me. Maybe. It's a possibility, right???

Hah…

Pattin stoned their heart over, prying themselves from the door. 

They didn't have time for this. They couldn’t be pathetic, especially when there was a slim chance they could fix everything, whatever that meant. 

They went left first. 

Locked.

There was a Boogie-Bot on the floor, blood splattered up the wall from where it must have been thrown against it. 

Pattin was fast to turn on their heels and move in the opposite direction. 

The hallway on the right was open, with a gaping hole in the floor and a bent bar just above it. Pattin stared, finding themselves to be quite amused despite everything. How did this even happen???? They weren't huge into physics, and honestly, they had little space among all the other questions they had, so Pattin made a running start, jumped and used their grab pack to swing across to the other side.

Another Bron toy. The blood this time was smeared down the hall, and Pattin tried very hard not to look at it.

Another room. This one’s exits were blocked with massive wooden planks. There was also a large cardboard cutout of Huggy Wuggy in the room, holding a grab pack. Pattin spitefully knocked it over. 

There was also a little closet, of a sort, slightly, if not extremely poorly, barricaded with barrels. Pattin shoved them all out of the way, knocking most of them onto the side so they could kick them to roll away.  

The closet door groaned horribly in the silence, and Pattin winced a little. It was empty. Nothing useful, seemingly, other than a key hanging from a bar at the very end of the little walk in the room. A key with a poppy flower for the head. 

Pattin knew what they had to do. Maybe Mr Ludwig was here too. Maybe he was the one setting up these tapes, leaving a trail of notes and guides behind, all to encourage Pattin. 

Maybe.

Maybe. 

They could only hope. 

Pattin made their way back to Mr Ludwig’s office, something horribly hard lodged in their chest.

They tried to do what they did when the radio silence first started, to focus on something else and ignore the dread, the worry, the hurt, but it was nipping at their heels, and there’s only so much distractions can do. 

 Pattin inserted the key, wiggled it, and with a eeeeeeeek, the door opened. Ludwig’s office… was cosy. Simple. It had nice wooden floorboards and brick walls, a pretty rug under the desk, sitting in the middle of the room. Children’s drawings were on the wall, and he had several small couch seats—a family man. 

Pattin’s heart swelled under the grief. They’d always idolised Elliot Ludwig. A man who never let anything stop him from wanting to bring joy to children and the world. He cared so much. 

Pattin paused, hesitant, the tape they last watched- the one with that horrible claw, the one that Pattin couldn't bear to bring with them, still burning in their mind. 

Did he know about them….? 

Pattin shook their head and wandered into the room.

Chapter Text

There were a couple of things on Mr Ludwig’s desk, one of which looked like a trophy, this ugly-looking daisy thing made of cheap gold. It gave Pattin a good laugh, so that was a plus- and two pieces of paper and another tape.

Pattin walked around the table to look at the paper- a blueprint for Catbee, and under the tape—

Experiment 814.

Pattin felt a cold sort of dread, feeling more and more sick as their eyes unwillingly took in horrid word after horrid word.

Perhaps something larger than a rat would yield different results.

Pattin tore themselves from the desk, trembling with grief and a hint of betrayal. 

He was in on it. 

Or, he’d started it, at least.

Like that made anything better.

It was so quiet here, and Pattin bumped themselves into one of the couches and curled up on it. The loneliness clawed at them, alongside muddled confusion. 

Then they remembered, technically, they weren’t alone.

Of course, they could assume there were other monsters out there, but for now, they picked the more optimistic option by pulling Betty the Catbee out of their bag, which was awkwardly pressed to their side. 

The toy creaked softly in their hold, as Pattin held her close to their chest.

“You're not like them, right, Betty?”

The toy did nothing. 

“Good,” they mumbled, pressing their nose to the toy’s forehead, sniffing a little. 

They sat there for a while. Just like before, on the catwalks, after Huggy Wuggy… fell. It was all too much, so much that they just couldn’t think. 

Pattin looked over to the TV. Then back at the VSH, innocently sitting there. It was black—Black like the other one.

Pattin’s guts churned uncomfortably. 

“I trusted you.” 

“I- I trusted you.”

Pattin was met with silence as they stood up again, exhaling. They started to do what they always did —brushing their hands down their chest, stomach, and legs. 

One arm at a time, before slowly exhaling, leaving that anxiety, doubt and confusion behind. They don’t have time for it, and neither did their friends, their family. 

Slinging off their grab pack, Pattin used the strap of their messenger bag to tie it to the back part of the machinery. From the looks of things, they had to open a grate into more fucking vents, and Pattin would rather be more equipped to run in case another monster appeared. 

They tried not to think about it too much - were there other toy monsters here? 

Pattin couldn’t help but think of all the toy ads they’ve seen- Boogie Bot, Doughy the doughman, Yarnaby— how many were there???? Was there a monster for all of them?????? 

Pattin froze as they thought back to the mascot, Smiling Critters, that walked around in Playcare. Were- were they monsters to?????? They had zippers - Pattin thought they were machines or mascots or - dread was quickly drowning them, and they rifled through their bag, Betty under their arm. 

Their hands touched the cigarette packet, tucked in its little pouch, and they paused.

They tsked, before snatching the water bottle instead and sculling half of it. 

Damn. They were thirsty. 

The water then reminded them of their other requirement- food. 

They moved through their bag, sorting it and tucking Betty back into it as they brought out what little snacks they had with them. 

An apple. 

Two muesli bars.

And the container of cookies they baked yesterday. 

Pattin swallowed. They definitely didn’t have enough food to last… for however long they were stuck here for. Gods, they really were stuck here, weren’t they?

Pattin exhaled again, slowly, and as calmly as possible, opening the container to take one cookie and the apple, tucking the rest back into their bag. They wiggled their new and improved grab pack plus bag onto their back, testing to make sure their bag wouldn’t untie and fall off. 

It did slap against their ass, but well, beggars can’t be choosers. 

They practically inhaled the cookie and wiped the crumbs off with their grey sleeve, before taking three massive bites of the apple. Only then did they turn to the grate. Pattin knew they had to go through it because it was covered in those bright, coloured hands- just like the horrible writing. 

Pattin studied it, taking another bite from the apple, holding it in their mouth as they used both hands to pull at the grate. It groaned before crashing to the floor, scratching the floorboards. 

They looked back at the VHS tape, glaring as they chewed on the bite of the apple, before heading up into the vents again. 

Pattin was really starting to hate vents. The glow of the red LED lights guided them to a new room, which was some sort of combined generator and storage room. They hopped down onto a box before trailing out into the room, squinting silently. 

And then a box was knocked from a shelf, and something red moved. 

“Oh-!”

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT-” 

Pattin startled back, practically tripping over their own feet in the process, spooked away from the loud crash of the box hitting the floor. Pattin quelled themselves not to shake, exhaling roughly. 

“Sorry, sorry!!” Pattin’s eyes fluttered, and they were squeezing the apple a little too hard, trying to focus on the red, red— on the small childish voice. 

Smashing plates. 

Yelling. 

Screaming. Gods, why wouldn’t they stop screaming? Why is it always so loud? 

“Hey… You alright?”

Pattin blinked before taking a massive bite out of their slightly bruised apple.

“Sure,” they managed, through a mouthful, juice dripping down their chin a little. 

“Right.....” said the doll, the talking, walking, Poppy doll. Her eyes were massive, bright blue, like the sky during summer —they looked real, as if someone had taken human eyes and inserted them into this doll's head.

Pattin was convinced they were gonna be sick. 

They took another bite of the apple. 

“Well, I wanted to thank you, I was stuck in that case for so long!!! Dreadfully boring, if you ask me,” 

Case? Or cage? Pattin didn’t speak, slowly running out of apples to take massive bites out of. 

They didn’t trust her, not even for a second, but maybe that was because they were just haunted by something awfully similar. 

“Anyway…” she shuffles, probably anxious with how I had been staring at her silently, shifting to the side of a generator. “I was trying to get the power back on! Um, if you don’t mind…?” 

Pattin blinked, frowned, and then shifted from their startled position, tossing the core of the apple over their shoulder in the process as they moved, watching the Doll with slitted eyes. They connected their red hand to the generator as they moved around the two conductor poles, before connecting the blue hand to the other generator. 

The doll clapped, positively beaming towards Pattin as the trill of music echoed from the generator, in a way that made them bristle a little. 

They licked their lip a little, murmuring, “What’s your name..?” 

“Oh! Yes, introductions. I’m Poppy, yes, like the doll, and your name, Angel?” 

“Angel?” Pattin nearly laughed. They were far from an Angel, of all things. The menace, the brat, the needy needy child that could never stop taking, the school dropout; not that their parents cared to read the letters sent from school, the addict, the list just kept going and kept growing. 

They were flawed, flawed and unwanted by everyone. 

His eyes were the colours of leaves. 

Charlie..... Charlie was always the calm, sensible one— if not always a bit fed up with their shenanigans. 

Tired eyes, tired smile. Tired, but genuine- always, no matter how much Pat pestered and pressed and pried. 

Worn hands that would help them up, hold them together- protect them. 

Like a Father. 

Or a Mum. 

Well…. Almost everyone. 

“I’m no Angel,” Pattin said bitterly, and they ached. 

“Quite the contrary!!!” Chimed Poppy, those big googly human eyes pinning them down like one of Mother’s beetles, pinned out on display, left to rot. 

They shivered, scooting away. 

“You survived Huggy- no one in the 9 years has managed to get past him alive, let alone kill him.” The doll seemed far too happy about that for Pattin’s comfort, and they were hit with the notion that they weren't the first to come here. “He’s a guard, one of the few attack dogs down here, and you dealt with it like it was nothing, you're like a Guardian Angel!”

The doll smoothed down her tiny puffy dress and smiled sweetly. “Look, as I said, I wanted to thank you for freeing me! I have a code for the Game Station train. One of the tracks leads out of this place! I'm too small to work the train, so you help me, I give you the code, and we can both get out of here!”

“Well, shit, why didn't you start with that, Pop?” Pattin chimed, a sudden, desperate urge filling them. A way out, a beacon, a magical key— Pattin had hope, other than mindlessly following multi-coloured warning words and hand prints. 

Sure, their life up till now was shit, but it wasn't shit enough to stay in this hellhole, literally and figuratively. 

“Excellent! Should be super easy, just get into the game station, start up the train and leave!” Poppy chimed, her voice echoing as she wandered back into the little vent to pop out of another near where Pattin had popped out of. “Follow me, the generator should have activated the locks on the gate next to Ludwig’s office!”

”Careful, don't jinx us,” Pattin warned, hopping up onto the crate, using the grab pack to drag themselves back up into the vents. 

The VHS tape was still on the table as Pattin got back into the office. They glare at it before nearly jumping out of their skin as Poppy pops out of another vent with a wide grin. “I’m up here! Hehe, I should be able to follow you through the vents!”

“Kay,” Pat said, just stopping themselves from adding kid to the end of that. And oh…. that just opened another entire can of worms that Pattin didn't want to get into. 

Sure enough, the hands above the gate to the left of Ludwig’s office were now glowing, and the gate groaned and creaked as it opened. 

And Pattin thought the hole on the right side was bad, as they stared down into an abyss. 

Faintly, they could hear Poppy humming in the room at the end of the hall. 

“Alrighty….” 

They sighed, firing the grab hand to grab onto the pole, tugging on it to ensure it wouldn't break. 

“Here goes nothin…..”

And they swung. They fell, started to swing up, cleared the other edge, let go of the pole, and landed surprisingly on their feet. 

Did they wobble around uncontrollably and nearly fall on their face? Also, yes, but the point was they landed on their feet. 

Talk about an adrenaline rush….

“Pops?” Pattin called, pushing the door open. And fucking hell, how many holes does this place have????? 

Poppy was standing at the very edge of a massive, almost sinkhole —a perfect circle of cracked tiles and torn pipes, bordering a massive hole of black. Her soft humming trailed off, turning to look at Pat with a serious look. 

“Now,” she murmured, turning slowly, hands lifted a little like an offering. “I need you to trust me, okay?” 

Pattin opened their mouth to reply, but was cut off as something long and pink burst from the darkness of the hole, wildly thrashing. 

“POPPY—” Pattin roared, frantically reaching out as the hand snatched up her, like, well— a kid grabbing a doll. 

Poppy screamed. It was so raw- like a child’s scream, and Pattin flinched, scrambling to the edge to try and grab her. 

Pattin made eye contact with Poppy’s bright, blue eyes before she vanished. 

Fuck. 

“FUCK,” Pattin screamed, sitting up to rapidly think over their options. How far down did the hole go? Could they jump it???? Should they find some rope or something else? 

No- wait, something was coming back up—

“POPPY???” Pattin called out, frantic and begging, even for something they didn't really like. Please, please don't leave me alone, I’m sorry—

It was pink, and Pattin watched as the ball uncurled into long, stretching fingers, snaking straight towards Pattin. 

Definitely not Poppy. Pattin scrambled back, eyes widening in horror as they kicked away from this thing. Another Beast, another monster—Poppy had confirmed it; there were more. “What did you do with Poppy?” Pattin hissed, baring their teeth as they scooted away. 

What definitely looked like a mascot's gloved hand didn’t respond. And then it lunged. 

Pattin tried to roll away, but it grabbed them by the foot, knocking off their balance as it tugged them hard, their head hitting the tiles hard enough to make them see stars.

They clawed with fading strength, as it dragged them slowly towards the pit, trying to kick at the hand with their free foot. 

They were dragged off the edge, suddenly swinging, and the back of their head hit something hard, causing a blistering pain to shoot through their skull. 

Pattin wheezed, body ragdolling against their will, vision slodgy. 

Through their fading vision… I swore… I saw bright, electric-green eyes and a long, sharp grin. 

Chapter Text

Agony. 

They felt like they were being cradled, almost, curled up and tangled up, in thick, rubbery coils. 

Something wet was dripping down the back of their neck, and someone was humming, a sweet, soft tune. 

Pattin was almost content, despite the agony. 

It was like all the times they’d run away, passing out in the streets, to awaken to the feeling of the sun, warming their soul and the cement where they lay. 

But there was no sun— not here. 

Where was I? 

Ah, right. Agony. 

Pattin tried to compel their body to move, to check the back of their head for blood. They found, pretty fast, that their arms were pinned. 

“A human…..?”

“Where did you even get one, Marie???”

“Food!?”

“Food!!!”

“Marie has food guys!!!!”

“Ohhhh,,,, dibs on a leg…”

Huh??????

“Children, please!” came a louder voice, soft and scolding. “I don't want to stand on one of you again accidentally.”

Pattin was jostled, and they groaned at the spike of agony that shot through the back of their head, down to the start of their spine. 

“It’s awake!!!!”

“It’s alive, Marie!”

“Alive!!!”

The cradling hold vanished, and Pattin hit the floor, hard. A feeble sob echoed from my throat, weak and pleading. “I know,” came the louder voice, pinging around in Pattin’s head like a spiked pingpong ball. “I want it alive for practice.” 

Several complaints and groans echoed around Pattin, disoriented eyes struggling to focus through heavy eyelids. “Now, now, hun’s. Practice is important, you all know why.”

A pause, followed by grumbled agreements. Soft things, hard things, were pressing into Pattin, and they weakly clawed at the floor slightly, half gagging on their own tongue. “How about this,” they- she??- continued, and the things stopped pressing into Pattin, some of them clambering over their body to head over to the soft voice. “Whoever can catch them during practice gets first picks.” 

What sounds like children all cheer, their delighted discussion fading as something closes with a THUNK, leaving Pattin cold and sprawled across cold metal.  

They tried to open their mouth, to plead, to sob, to do something, but their jaw wasn’t working. 

It was cold. 

Cold as the wooden floorboards under their bed, like the cement of the walls in their closet. 

Pattin didn’t like the cold. 

……..

……………..

………..

ɛ̃ᴜãŋ 'ɔ̃ã ᴜæɔ̃ɛ̃ ᴜæɚ̀ioŋ, GET UP.

It was dark. 

I was dizzy, dizzy like I might throw up— but that wasn't an option. Not with so little food. My throat was thick, slicked up and tight, almost choking.

Pattin pried an eye open. 

Darkness. 

Pattin hated the dark. 

Hated that it made them feel tiny, suffocated and trapped. 

Agony.

This isn’t about you. Get up. You can die later.

Pattin sobbed, shaky arms pushing themselves up. They couldn't breathe. They couldn't see, they couldn't see, and they couldn't breathe— 

Their hand hit a wall. 

Cold. Cold like the dark, cold like the floor of their room, hiding from the beasts that scream, praying they wouldn't come into the tangled lie of a safe haven they had made—

Their hand moved faster and hit the roof. 

A box.

A metal box.

They were trapped. 

They made a noise caught between a sob and a croak, frantically shifting around to touch, finding four walls and one sturdy roof, and that Pattin was trapped inside. 

Pattin braced and then lunged awkwardly, slamming their shoulder into the wall. Their shoulder protested, and their head throbbed, white hot veins of agony tingling every nerve. 

They recoiled, braced, and then slammed their shoulder into the roof, throat aching as they made a noise close to a wail. 

Let me out!! Let me out!

Light. 

Pattin lunged, half-bracing to slam into a wall. Instead, they hit the air, and their hip hit the edge of the box. 

They practically fell out into a heap on the floor, hissing, spitting and scrambling. 

“Oh dear, careful little fly, my children won't like to eat you bruised,” 

What the fuck, what the fuck—

Something grabbed them by their Grab Pack, and Pattin was yanked into the air. 

“And they called us animals.” The voice huffed, something blurry and pink invading Pattin’s vision. 

I snarled, snapping my teeth at it. Fucking boundaries, lady.

“Hmph.” Pattin furiously blinked, their head still throbbing as they tried to clear their eyes. It looked like…..

“At least you’ll make a bit of a challenge for my children…” 

Holy shit. 

It was Mommy Long Legs— a big one, the one used in the game station. A slow dread filled Pattin— was she like Huggy Wuggy? Was she actually alive???

The game station was never this quiet. 

Behind Pattin was the train—that's where Mommy Long Legs pulled them from—and Pattin remembered something very important. 

“Where’s P-Poppy?” Pattin said, voice breaking as they furiously rubbed the tears from their eyes. Ugh. Dehydrated again. 

“Don't worry, she’s safe and sound.” The massive pink toy chimed — she almost looked like a spider, like this — chittering, preening, almost. 

She looked just like the real toy, with three large plastic segments representing her chest, hips, and head —all connected by long, stretchy tubes. Her hair was made of the same material, and it was styled in long, cascading curls that spilled out from the back of a blue scrunchie. 

Her eyes were bright green- green like fake grass. “And I heard that Poppy was just gonna give you the train code.” She continued, shaking Pattin a little. Pattin felt their brain ping around in their head, and they clutched it with a whimper. “Well, I have a better idea,” She hummed, teasing, almost coy. 

“Me and my children have kept the Game Station in top condition!” She boasted, suddenly moving and having Pattin’s stomach drop into their knees as the spider moved, a gloved hand flicking over a control panel. Slowly, the covers to the three games opened up, groaning a little. “You’ll prove an excellent game for them to practice on. Prove to be a good challenge, and I’ll give you a part of the code~”

“And if I don’t?” Pattin snapped, bristling.

Mommy sighed, faking disappointment. “Well, then my children won't get the chance to practice, and I just have to end your pitiful little life myself, huh?” 

Pattin’s heart stopped. 

Well. They didn't have much of a choice now, did they? 

What would Rich or Charlie do? HELL, what would Raphael do?! 

Probably bite the bitch. 

Pattin wondered if Raffle would be proud of them silently. 

Take a breath. Maybe during the games, I can sneak away… maybe find Poppy; hopefully, she has memorised the code. 

Pattin swallowed. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll play your games,” 

Mommy Long Leg’s smile stretched, almost unhinging. 

“Wonderful. The children will be thrilled.”

Chapter Text

Mommy was kind enough to put Pattin down, then continue to hold them by the Grab Pack.

“I’ll be following you closely. So don't get any ideas, got it??” She hissed, eyes glaring.

“Joy…” Pattin said dryly, huffing as they righted themselves from being manhandled, staggering back. Their head throbbed painfully, but they did well to hide it. 

Mommy Long Legs watched with her sick, bright green eyes —eyes that seemed too real, as Pattin moved towards Musical Memory. 

These were kids' games, right?

How hard could they be?

The halls were blood-soaked. Far more than the floor above, where Huggy was- the ground floor- Pattin reminded themselves. 

Doors were bolted with planks or barricaded, and walls were smashed —but there was only one route to take, and that was the one Pattin stuck to, in case Mommy really meant it when she said she was watching their every move. 

Another hole. Pattin swallowed and prayed that it would be over quickly, hopping down into the dark, enclosed space. They hissed when their jeans caught on rough stones and tore a little, clambering aimlessly forward.

Pattin suddenly fell forward, managing to catch themselves as the tunnel abruptly ended in an equally dark room. 

They groaned as they pushed themselves up onto their feet, a loud, irritating beeping going off that felt like a firecracker pinging against the inner wall of their cranium. 

They glared at the piercing red light, dragging themselves over to yank at the large, stupid switch to hopefully shut it up. 

Behind them, lights flickered on, and they swung their head over to it. Ohhhhhh, shit, Pattin forgot about the moulding room. They use to bring paint to the folks who worked there all the time. They were a cranky bunch, but they calmed down if they received the paint delivery on time. 

Another, even more ear-grating beep went off, and Pattin vocally groaned as they dragged themselves over to the control panel, which was now making a racket. 

There was a green tape on the panel, which they glared at bitterly. They grabbed it before fisting the button that was making the annoying sound. 

Thankfully, it shut off. The machine on the far right suddenly started to fill with plastic pellets. Pattin knew this because they had made the mistake of asking the old man who worked the controls how it worked. The machine heated up, melting the pelts into a thick, viscous substance. 

The button next to the first button started beeping, and with a furious shout, Pattin slapped that one too. 

Unfortunately, for some stupid reason, the pipes weren’t connected, and the melted plastic started to spray everywhere. 

“FUCK—” 

Pattin frantically slapped the button until the flow stopped; before running over, still cursing, and attempted to grab the pipe with their red hand. The hand sparked and did nothing. 

“Huh,” Pattin said, baffled by the stupid irony of the situation, before shaking it off and using the blue hand.  

Pipe relocated to the proper place. Excellent. Pattin checked over everything to make sure there were no others before slapping the next two buttons. The machinery whirled and groaned, and Pattin followed it with a weary, tired glare as it produced a set of blank hands. 

And then of course…… beep!! 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Pattin roared at the stupid machine, smacking it furiously.

But it kept going, until Pattin looked up and realised that the machine was out of paint, to which they fisted their hair and screamed at frankly nothing. 

There was a sudden shudder of lights, and Pattin froze, hands still fisted in their wild hair, eyes wide. 

A gate opened. 

Pattin stared. 

“I hate this.” They growled, low in their chest. “I hate this.” They sulked, storming over to the gate and up the stairwell, one arm hugged to their chest, the other clutching the railing, a mix of comfort and unsteadiness. 

All whirling STOPPED when they got to the top. 

“Fuck you fuck you fuck you.” They hurriedly hissed, scampering along the cat walls like a rat, spotting the paint canister, thankfully right next to the paint machine. They stuck it in, and thank god, the beeping stopped. 

Pattin sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping twice. 

They went up to the control panel, pressing the last two buttons to paint, and then releasing their hands. Pattin went up to them, realising they’d have to leave behind their broken red hand for the new green one.

New surprise: removing the hands is hard. 

But if Pat is good at anything, it’s breaking stuff. 

Several shenanigans later, one green hand! 

Behind the machine, Pat found the tape recorder for the tape from the control, huffing hair from their eyes as they inserted it. 

It felt…. More eerie now, hearing the music from the instruction videos. Pattin shrank in on themselves, just a little. 

The video was about how to use the hand— apparently, it’s some new hand device that can conduct electricity and power things, but only for ten seconds. 

“Hmph. Okay.” Pattin mumbled to themselves, looking from the large green glowing hexagon to the full triangle, and next to it, another conveyor belt and a door. 

Shoot the green hand at the power grid, the hand thrummed with the potential energy, which Pat was fast to dispose of into the triangle grid. The door opened, and then of course, slammed closed the second Pattin was inside. “Great…” 

They found their way, AGAIN, through the too-small conveyor belts, trembling a little as they ignored how it felt like everything was closing in on them. 

Thankfully, another wall in rubble meant Pat was out and in the halls, again. They walked past a Bunzo bunny cutout, flinching away from it as it swayed a little, and out into a poorly lit room. A single walkway extended out into a circular platform, suspended in mid-air. A large thin dome hovered above the platform. 

Pattin swallowed, nerves nipping at their heels. This…. This was the game???? It’s sure as hell didn’t look like it. It looked… it looked like a test, of some sort. 

Slowly walking forward, Pattin held their arms to their chest as they came to stand on the platform. Thousands of screens suddenly flickered, and loud music filled the room, causing Pattin to flinch and grip themselves tighter.

The screens began to explain what the test was about - they would show a pattern; you would press the buttons in the pattern, blah blah. At the mention of Bunzo, the game's mascot, Pattin quickly looked up and swallowed in terror at the beady eyes glaring at them from the darkness. 

“If Bunzo reaches you, your test is over.” 

Pattin trembled where they stood as Bunzo grinned, baring four sharp, hooked teeth. 

Oh, they were gonna hate this; they knew it. 

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mommy Long Legs' voice came as the screens went dark and what looked like a viewing platform illuminated. 

What the fuck. 

“My children work hard to ensure they are prepared for beasts outside our haven….  But there’s oh-so-much they can do without an actual bait to practice on!!” She drawled, seeming ever so amused about this. “And I’m sure Jackie will be thrilled about this, it’s been suuuuuch a long time since he’s been able to play….. to cheer… to eat…” 

Pattin flinched at the sudden sounds of crashing cymbals above their head, whipping their head up to see the Bunzo- Jackie??? Had lowered down, grinning wildly. His ears were tied back to make way for a pair of headphones over his ears, wide black eyes illuminated with two bright white pupils. 

“That’s the dinner bell!!! Have fun, Jackie…~” 

The screens flickered on, and Jackie clashed the cymbals, signalling the start of the game. 

Green. 

Right- fuck— Pattin fired a hand, flinching at another clash of the cymbals, hitting the button. 

Green, yellow

Pattin hit the buttons, panic clawing in their chest —and all they could think about was how this wasn't terrifying for the kids. How. How. 

Green, yellow, red. 

Pattin flinched at the clashing continued, eyes unfocusing a little at the bright lights as they hit the buttons. They made the bad choice to look up and saw Jackie getting really close, immediately frantically slapping the buttons.

Round two. 

Round two, here we go. 

Yellow.

Yellow, Yellow.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, blue.

Pattin missed a yellow by accident, and Jackie laughed, the cymbals getting louder and louder the closer they got.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, blue, yellow, blue, violet. 

HUH???? 

Pattin frantically searched for the violet, finding it behind them—Ohhhh REAL slick PlayCo. 

Round three. 

“Please, please be the last one—”

White. 

“RAHHHH,” Pattin shouted in fury, head spinning as they turned to find the white one.

White, Blue, Green, Orange.

“Ohhhh, just throw in MORE, SURE!!” Pattin yelled, panting as they struggled to keep up with the faster pace. 

Round four. 

Blue.

Same round, just faster? That’s what Pattin hoped. 

Blue, j. 

Pattin's brain almost twitched— at the white that flashed during the word blue, and the new thing- SYMBOLS??? And they're fucking the colours????

Blue, j, <3, red.

Pattin whirled around, slick thick in the back of their throat as they coughed, the flashing of the lights hurting their eyes as they frantically pushed the buttons.

Blue, j, <3, red, pie. 

“PIE?!” Pattin half yelled, half choked, infuriated.

Round five. 

Loud groaning came from the roof as MORE buttons dropped down, and Pattin made a half-sob sound of horror. 

Orange, green, yellow, yellow, pie, turquoise—

Pattin panicked; whirling around as the cymbals clashed, the lights spat and fizzed, and a button- one with a hazard sign popped up and started spinning around the platform. Pattin missed their first attempt, and they sobbed - and hit it the second time. 

The buttons suddenly jerked; sparks flying in all directions as they seized, flailing around wildly— I covered my ears, scrambling away from the harsh movements and sounds, crying. The lights suddenly shut off, and Pattin crumbled into a heap on the platform. 

Silence. 

“Oh……. It broke…” came Mommy’s low, displeased voice. Pattin cowered, covering their head with their hands and muffling their cries into their jeans. “I’m sorry, Jackie, that’s no fun at all.” Pattin twitched at the soft clash of cymbals from above. 

“Well…… for doing such a …. Marvellous job at playing, I’ll give you a piece of the train code. Look up, little fly.”

Pattin shakily looked up, tears streaming down their face. 

“Take it.”

Mommy’s hand was now in the pipe where Jackie is, holding the top part of the torn code. Pattin took it with shaking hands, watching as the hand slowly vanished up, only pausing to grab Jackie rather gently. The rabbit toy squinted a little at Pattin, like it didn’t know how to react to Pattin crying, before both it and Mommy’s hand vanished from sight. 

“We’ll see you very soon, little fly….” She said in a sing-song voice, vanishing from sight.

Pattin held still until they were sure she was gone. 

And then they lay on the floor of the platform. 

And they tried to breathe.

Chapter Text

Pattin was unsure how long they lay there before peeling themselves from the floor. 

Their hands shook. They had crinkled the paper Mommy had given them— the top half of the train code, being four of the characters' heads in a deep steel blue. 

Looking back at the spot where Jackal- the Bunzo- had been, Pattin shakily made their escape. 

The bridge groaned and creaked as Pattin scurried along it like a rat, the bolts rattling. At the first CRACK, Pattin flat-out sprinted and jumped to the safety of the ledge as the bridge crashed into the darkness below. 

I released a shaky breath, trembling as I staggered back into the safety of the cement walls. The route back to the Game station was short-lived and blurry; Pattin’s heart refused to calm even with their breathing exercises. Their fingers itched to pull out a cigarette— to drown themselves in the smoke— but they continued forward. 

The game station was silent, as Pattin stumbled out of musical memory. 

They looked around, turning their head silently, actually taking in the place. They half expected Mommy Long Legs to be here—waiting for them. She wasn’t. 

Pattin was unsure if that was a positive or not. 

On the far side, towards the entrance, lay the playground and seating area, although it had changed. 

The entrance was barricaded, a large hunk of what looked like machinery pressed up against the door. 

The left side of the seating area had massive sheets of patchwork cloth hanging from the overhead shelter and hiding the seats from view, while the other side had all the seats torn out, leaving room for box-shaped cubbies. 

Houses. Pattin realised that want felt like dread. They were houses. They…. They were LIVING here. 

They turned, looking back to the train. There was what looked like a food shelf beside the control panel— Pattin had totally missed it from before, somehow. Stacks of delicately ordered vending machine snacks, drinks, stashes of things from the break room— 

They had so little. So, so, so little. Not even monsters deserved this. 

Pattin swallowed and turned towards Wack-a-Wuggy. 

The hallways to Wack-a-Wuggy were in far better condition than the ones to Musical Memory, as Pattin walked through them, covering their eyes to protect them from the faulty lights that sparked and flickered uncontrollably, making the what Pat would once have considered cute, artwork of the wuggies rather…. Terrifying. 

They stumbled as the firm footing suddenly gave way to sand, which they grimaced at. They forgot that this stupid game was in a sand pit. They peered out into the darkness of the next room, their converses sinking into the sand, and nearly imploded on the spot at the janky, stupid music PlayCo always played at the start of their videos, which started up before crackling, hissing, and breaking off into static. 

Pattin curled in on themselves, the loud hissing fading into crackling static.

“You know..” Mommy’s voice said, breaking through the static over a crackly intercom, making Pattin flinch and look up. “The wuggies use to have a wire…. To pull them back before they got too close to the children.” 

The silhouette of Mommy glared down at Pattin from her spot in the viewing platform, and Pattin could see the beady, glowing eyes of Jackal, holding onto her neck. 

“My children…. Leashed like dogs.” 

A round of snarls echoed from the holes in the walls, and Pattin already felt the uncontrollable panic flickering through them. 

“Mmm.. have fun, little fly.”

And the lights cut out. 

How do they live like this?! 

Pattin froze- hearing a rattling hissing sound from behind them. They whipped around, just in time to see a bright red wuggy slowly sticking its head out of the hole, grinning with toothless gums. Pattin smacked it with their grab hand on instinct, and it yelped and disappeared back into the hole. 

“How do you live like this?!” Pattin called to Marie, whipping around to their right at a movement of green. The sounds of plush shuffling along the plastic tubes had Pattin paranoid, eyes flickering. 

“We don’t.” Hissed Mommy. “We survive.” 

“Isn’t that exhausting???” Pattin cried, smacking two holes with both of their hands, yelping as one yellow Huggy, perched on the edge of a hole, started to make that hissing rattling sound. “Why don't you leave?! Why stay????”

Pattin thought of the old stacked boxes that made the little beds—thought of the pitiful amount of food, thought of the barricade holding the door closed. 

They looked up to the spider woman, and they couldn’t help it— they felt sorry for this monster. 

“Goodbye, little fly.” 

“Huh—? AGH—” Something landed on Pattin’s back, and they barely caught the glimpse of blue fur before the little Wuggy chomped down on their shoulder. For something with no teeth, it still HURT! 

Pattin reacted on instinct, a hand hooking onto the little furry thing, and threw it as hard as they could. 

The little critter hit the wall with a wet THACK and landed in a crumbled heap on the sandy floor. The wall was stained red from where it had hit, like when Huggy hit the pole. 

What did you do?

“NAVY-” Mommy Long Leg’s screamed, right as Pattin suddenly found themselves moving. 

“NO-NO NO, no no— no I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Pattin skidded to a stop, sand kicking up behind them. They were crying- sobbing, scooping up the little, tiny body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” 

Look at what you did. LOOK. You useless, worthless brat, breaking everything you touch—

“I can— I’ll fix it—I’ll- I’ll fix this-” They yanked their grab pack off, tears blurring their vision as they hastily rummaged through their bag. The mini Wuggy shifted a little, looking up at Pattin. Poor thing was probably dazed from the blow. They didn’t have a medical kit, but they did have a sewing kit—trembling hands, threading a needle. 

Thankfully, it didn’t actually look that bad— the toy had a rip in its seam along its back, where blood-stained stuffing was pressing out. 

“Okay, okay-”

How many times had Pattin mended their own toys in the dark? Too many times. “You're okay, you're okay. It’s just a seam rip,” 

Knot the tear. The Wuggy shifted a little, holding Pattin’s hands that supported the little toy, turning their head to watch Pattin with narrowed, baffled eyes. 

Pattin started to stitch up the rip, shakily humming. They were still crying, the tears dripping onto the sand that stuck to their legs. 

They pulled the thread, and the stitches tightened and vanished. Two knots later, Pattin cut the thread off and gently released the Wuggie. 

“No other ouchies? All okay?” Pattin asked shakily, reaching out a hand to try and touch the little one's head, only for it to snap at Pattin’s hand with a loud hiss. They dropped their hand. “Right. Sorry, little fellow.” 

…..

It had gotten really, really quiet. 

Pat slowly turned their head, swallowing thickly. 

All of Wuggies were out of the holes. About 6 of them were on the sand, huddled together and curled into a position that looked like they were about to pounce. Mommy had somehow spawned into the sand pit as well, limbs stretched like she was trying to be as big as she could be, pupils blown wide until her green eyes were just a sliver of a ring. Jackal was still around her neck, staring with enough visceral that if looks could kill, Pattin would be dead thrice. 

Pattin suddenly felt very, very small. 

“…you… helped..?” Mommy said, her voice eerie and low. It was hard to tell how she felt, with her voice all distorted like that. 

“O-of course, you’re…. you're clearly alive,” Pattin said, almost rushed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone….” 

“Liar.” Mommy spat, reeling up higher. 

“I don’t!!” I cried, scrubbing at my face. “I came here cause I was called— I thought, I…” 

Jackal tugged on Mommy’s neck softly, murmuring something. She then straightened, scoffing. “Here's your code. You barely deserve it, though.” She hissed, dropping the paper in front of them, before reaching out. Pattin recoiled, flinching a little. She reached past them, though, and grabbed the little Wuggy, reuniting it with all the others, who chatter and growl among each other.

Through their racing heart, Pattin swore they heard words. The blue Wuggy, Navy, that’s what Mommy called them— looked back at Pattin wearily, before looking down at their stitches, before turning and clambering up Mommy Long Leg’s along side all the other little wuggies, making Mommy’s Long Leg’s abdomen look like it was covered in red, yellow, green and blue tie dye fur.

And with that, she turned and left Wack-a-Wuggy. Pattin stared at the wuggies, who all stared back, until they vanished around a corner. 

Chapter Text

Pattin hated the feeling of guilt. 

It knawed at them, in their stomach, in their chest. 

It was truly an awful feeling. 

They slowly made their way from Wack-a-Wuggy, dragging their grab pack behind them, a sense of wrong and sick guilt following them everywhere they went. And when they emerged, back into the game station, they only felt sicker. 

It was lively. The Wuggies were now running around— Hiding in the house boxes, playing on the playground, the room filled with half-slurred words and loud, delighted chattering. Jackal- the Bunzo Bunny- was perched at the tippy top of the play structure on the left side, made unfortunate eye contact with Pattin, and scowled. 

Pattin winced. 

Navy, the Wuggy Pattin had thrown by accident, was over near the seating area, covered by blankets, which they vanished under before Pattin could get a good look at them. 

They were starting to wonder if guilt could kill them. 

They sat down far away from the Wuggies and the glaring eyes of Jackal, dropped their grab pack, and flopped down on the floor, stretching out. They lay there, just breathing and overall suffocating in their own personal pity party. 

Well… no point being miserable AND hungry. 

They rolled over and started to fish through their bag again. Again, their hands paused on the cigarette packet, drawn like a moth to the flame— but some small part of Pattin that swore off smoking in front of the kids came in and made them pause. They tsked angrily, and pulled out the container of cookies. 

Selecting one cold cookie from the box, Pattin took a bite and silently chewed, watching the …. Toys, play. 

The guilt gnawed at their heart like an angry beast. 

“…you… helped..?” The spider's voice was low—like a child who had never witnessed care before. 

“Foood..?” 

“AHH!!” 

Pattin again, nearly leapt out of their skin, clutching their chest and cookie close. The little green Wuggie skittered back in alarm, eyes positively MASSIVE, and Pattin felt like they had just kicked a puppy into the sun. 

“No-no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Pattin ushered, lowering their hands towards the floor. The Wuggy zeroed back in on the cookie, wiggling its face in almost… was it smelling??? 

“Fffooob.” It blabbered. 

“Foob?” Pattin echoed, following its gaze. “Oh! Food! Yeah- I made it myself- here,” Pattin tore off a chunk of their cookie, gently offering it. 

The little Wuggy slowly skittered forward, eyes big enough to look like they may pop out of their head, and snatched the piece away, skittering off on all four of its long, lanky limbs to inhale the cookie alone. Pattin snorted and resumed taking bites of their cookie. 

Less than five seconds later, the green Wuggy was back. “Foooood???” It asked, bunting its head lightly into Pattin's thigh. Pattin should be saving their food, but they couldn’t help but think of the small food shelf behind them, and crumbled. 

“Here,” Pattin said softly, taking one whole cookie from their container and placing it on their leg in front of the little one. It was amusing how its little bright eyes only got bigger. Merrily taking the cookie, it skittered off again, but instead of devouring it, the little Wuggy called out loudly. 

“FOO!!! FOOD!!! COME COME!!!l” 

The reaction was immediate— 5, 6– no, 8 Wuggies popped out of boxes and tore from the play set, and all joined the green one, which started to…. 

Ration. Pattin realised, heartbroken. “No, no, here-” Pattin found themselves saying again, scaring half of the wuggies. A musty red one, wearing what looked like … teeth… around their neck, snarled, standing up to protect their friends. “Whoa! Woah, easy-” Pat said, before gently collecting out five more cookies from their container. “Here. Half each. So you all have more.” 

“More..?” A blue one— Navy, that was Navy— said. 

“Yeah, more. Sharing one cookie among nine is nuts.” 

Navy frowned before chittering to the red one with the teeth necklace. They softened slightly and gingerly took the cookies. “…..gitchibath.” They gargled, turning to break the cookies in half and share them among the fluffy little bodies. “She says thanks,” Navy filled in. 

“Your… welcome?” Pat said softly, opting to lie on their stomach to appear less imposing, and packed the remaining eight cookies away into their bag. “What’s her name?” 

“Crab,” Navy said, utterly serious. He- he? Continued before Pattin could ensure they weren’t mishearing shit. “Then we have Daisy, Lime, Mimi, Keke, Locke, Sunny and Nya.” 

Pattin followed his paw around to each of the Wuggies. It helped that those with colour names matched their colours—Lime was the little one that came over first, while both Daisy and Sunny were what used to be yellow. 

Locke had a set of small locks around his neck, while Keke had what Pattin was assuming was the matching set of keys. Daisy had fake flowers in her fur; Nya was missing an arm and had a black strap of fabric around her neck. Mimi, the only other red Wuggie, had nothing. 

“Who are you? The doll just keeps calling you Angel.” 

“Oh- I’m Pattin.” Pattin supplied helpfully. 

“Pay-tin?”

“Pa tin???”

“Paaaaaaaaattiin??”

“Grrrpugh?” 

“PAAAAAAAAA—“ 

The wuggies echoed through mouthfuls of cookies, unhelpfully. 

“Uh, but you guys can call me Pat, okay?” 

“Pat?”

“Pat!!!”

“Pat! Pat!! Pat! Pat!!!” Cheered the Wuggies. 

“Why are you all screaming?” Came another voice, which happened to be Jackal, when Pattin lifted their head from the cheering ball of fluff. “Sorry- I think I set them off.” They couldn’t help but joke. Jackal squinted, but didn’t say anything. Or scowl, for that matter. Pattin took that as a win. 

“Where’s Mommy?” They couldn’t help but ask, looking around, “Is she already in Statues?” 

Jackal smirked. “Look up.” 

Pattin looked up, rather stupidly, and realised that an over was massive catwalks and viewing platforms. And on them, Mommy stared down…. Looking not exactly pleased. 

Pattin swallowed. “I think I should head off to that last game then, huh?” 

“You should.” Jackal agreed, folding his arms that groaned a little as he did so.

Pattin grunted as they came to a stand, watching as Mommy vanished from sight from the catwalks, probably off to the viewing platform in statues. They took one last look at the wuggies and jackal— just in time to see Jackal soften as Lime passed him a half of one of the cookies. 

Pattin headed up toward the control panel, staring at the food shelf. Half of them considered whether it was wise to leave their food behind, especially if they also wanted to get these living toys out—despite everything; they deserved better than this. Gently, Pattin took out their tub of cookies. They only had eight left. Well. They were sure they’d find more food elsewhere, maybe in one of the old vending machines or something. They gently placed the container on the shelf before turning to go to the statues. 

As Pattin walked past the control panel, something caught the corner of their eye—two pieces of crumbled paper. 

They knelt, picking them up— arching a brow at the title “Game Station Test Subject Assessment Form”. That…. Can’t be good. 

It seemed like a typical progress report—marking a child’s- Makayla's- progression at the games. On the first page, she wasn’t going so well— but on the second, a retrial of the games, she nearly got 5/5 on all of them. 

This shouldn’t worry Pattin. 

It shouldn’t. 

But I can’t help but stare at two of the titles at the top of the page. 

Subject name. 

Assigned toy. 

Subject name. Those two small words rattled around in Pattin’s brain. Subject. Subject. It reminded Pattin of the note they found in Ludwig’s office. 

Perhaps something larger than a rat would yield different results.

I’m going to be sick. 

They looked out—out at the toys—hands crinkling and creasing the paper. Assigned toy. How many kids had a toy— one specific toy— 

They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t breathe. 

All of them. They all did. How many went missing? How many were actually adopted??? Were any of them?? 

Pattin stuffed the documents into their pockets, gripping the railings as they descended towards Statues. 

Behind them, the children played.

Chapter Text

The halls here are almost normal. 

It felt wrong in comparison to the other halls of the other two games, which were both in various stages of ruin. This in itself was its own brand of horror. 

Normalcy when nothing was normal. 

Pattin curled in on themselves at the looming PJ Pugapillar drawings on the wall. PJ was the favourite, right? All the kids never stopped talking about it, about how fun Statues was. 

Pattin prayed weakly that their experience would be the same. 

Thankfully—or not —Pattin’s luck had been doing 360s since Mommy dragged them into the hole; the door to Statues was closed. 

Not thankfully— the door right next to it, into a room that definitely looked sketchy, was wide open. 

Pattin let out a low, long sigh. 

It was full of machinery, junk and other weird metal jargon that Pattin didn’t really care for at all.

They hurried through, eyes skittering around and keeping an eye out, flinching at each hiss of steam and groaning of the walls. And then distantly, beep. 

Pattin couldn’t believe that they were almost relieved to hear the infuriating noise. They scurried over to it, the bright red light of the angry machine a guide for Pattin to track in the dim lighting. Pattin was starting to learn just how few windows this place had. They never realised. 

There was another paper on the control panel. 

I glared at it, scowling almost, like its very existence disgusted me, knowing that this was another horror mark on this sinful, sinful place.

They picked it up. 

-Transfer Request- 

Pattin’s grip tightened at the words below it. 

Experiment 1222 — ‘Mommy Long-Legs’

Subject: Marie Payne

They thickly swallowed back the bile, rage and guilt consuming them from the inside out. 

She was a person. She was a person. 

They weren’t monsters. 

They were man-made horrors, forged from innocents undeserving of this. 

They forced themselves to keep reading. 

She is protective of them. 

“I wonder fuckin why, smartass,” Pattin growled to the paper, like they could reach through it and slap the shit out of the person that made this document. 

They reached the last sentence, and their stomach dropped. Conditioning can begin. Pattin did NOT like the sound of that. No sirrey. 

They gently folded up the paper, tucking it into his bag alongside the growing hoard of evidence. 

They turned, trying to see why the machine was beeping, and were met by an insane-looking puzzle. Pattin groaned, running a hand down their face. 

Fuckin great. 

Their eye was twitching when they finally solved the stupid thing, storming up to the panel to slap the button and march off the way they came, grumbling under their breath about how unreasonable that was. 

How were any of these ridiculous puzzles efficient? Especially in a factory? Pattin scoffed. 

But the door to Statues was open; so Pattin held back the grumbling and silently entered. It was… dark. But not suffocating— it was a spacious sort of dark that made you wonder if things were in there with you.

The video started, spooking Pattin, turning their head up to look at it. They glared at the crackle of the video as it cheerfully welcomed them to Statues. 

“The beloved PJ-Pugapillar will be following you closely.”

A skittering pitter-patter filled the air, and Pattin looked up higher to see the looming, purple and blue face of the toy in question. “Aw….” Pattin couldn’t help but coo, softening at the creature's squished face. 

Two large tusks protruded from PJ’s bottom jaw. 

“If PJ catches you, your test is over.”

“Oh….” Pattin wisely corrected, scooting away. 

The video clicked off—and a viewing platform illuminated, Mommy’s—Marie’s, Pattin corrected —silhouette a dark shadow against the bright LEDs. She had a new friend with her now, something small and long that Pattin couldn’t make out well in the light. 

“Marie,” Patton said before the spider could get a word in, tilting their head up.

She stiffened, almost startled, before growling. “How do you know that name, little fly?” 

They hesitated before reaching into their bag and pulling out the paper. “I found this— it-… it said that a person called Marie was used as the “subject” for Mommy Long legs.” 

They inhaled shakily. “That’s you, isn’t it? Your… your all children, or people, at least.” 

Marie stared, her silhouette still. “Your employees never cared.” She hissed. “This is my domain. I, and I ALONE protect it— as I tried for all those that came before. The children, they called me my false name cause I was the closest thing to a mother any of them had.” 

She stretched, body filling the window like she was ready to smash it and murder Pattin where they stood. “They’d come for these games, these tests, and they’d never come back.”

“Sentenced to die alone, in this hell.” 

Her voice was like ice, as she glared down at Pattin’s feeble form. “But you worked here. So if anyone deserves to die alone…. It’s you.”

Pattin opened their mouth— to defend, to explain, but lights in the observation platform clicked off, and then music started. The loud pitter-patter of PJ started up, and Pattin scrambled to take off, heart in their throat. 

The first obstacle was these large fake brick walls, which Pattin ran through with ease. They were a floor runner; running was the one thing they were good at. 

The lights flickered on, and remembering the video, they froze, swallowing at the bright lights and the nearing pitter-patter of the toy getting closer. 

The lights flicked off, and off they went, as fast as they could. They clambered up the arched rainbow ladder on all fours, wobbling a little at the top, just in time for the likes to flick off again. They turned their head a little, seeing PJ coming around the corner of the walls. Their eyes glowed as the lights clicked off. 

Monkey bars. They were made for kids, so for someone Pat’s size, even on the shorter end of the spectrum, they managed to take two at a time relatively fast, though they did nearly slip from how sweaty their palms were getting. The light came back on, illuminating three tubes in front of them: easy, medium, hard. Pattin laughed slightly, though it mostly sounded like their lungs were deflated. 

The lights clicked off, they dropped from the monkey bars and bolted to the easy tunnel. It was small. Too small, but Pattin gritted their jaw and crawled, grab pack banging into the roof every time they looked up. There were lights in the tubes, unfortunately or fortunately- Pattin wasn’t sure which. The lights flickered, and Pattin froze, trying to gauge how far away PJ was. It was hard to tell. The lights turned off again, and they scampered out of the hole at the sight of the exit. PJ’s footsteps only get louder and louder.

Another foam pit greeted them, with large blocks half-submerged in it. The transitions between light and dark were getting faster and faster, and the constant flickering was hurting Pattin’s eyes. They leapt up onto the first block, staggering, and jumping to the next one. The lights flickered again, tears welling up in their eyes at the bright light, PJ scampering out of the tube behind them. 

Their chest heaved frantically, swallowing spit in their mouth as the lights sparked off, leaping to the next block, and then the fourth, and then looking for the next— but there was nothing. Pattin jumped down into the foam, clawing through it, back onto the cement, staring up at the massive rubble of the broken wall. 

So if anyone deserves to die alone…. It’s you.

Pattin wasn’t scared. 

That, in itself, was surprising. 

They could barely hear the pitter-patter of the dog-bug’s feet getting closer, and closer, and closer. 

They turned, looking up at this person; at what they were forced to become. PJ clambered up and over the last block, eyes getting wider and wider the closer they got. 

Pattin dropped to their knees. 

PJ neared, pushing themself up. 

Their grab pack slid off, and they watched the toy rear up. 

They were crying. Nowhere to run now. Caught in the spider’s web. 

Tears spilled down their cheeks as they lifted their head to the bright LEDs that haloed PJ, their eyes glowing and teeth glinting in the bare light. 

Pattin closed their eyes as the toy lunged.

Chapter Text

Pattin expected their death to be agonising.

Expected from their bones to splinter and groan and snap, under the teeth and coiling, tightening coils of vaguely Pom-Pom-like body. 

Expected their screams to echo the room, only to be gargled as blood filled their throat, choking them as darkness consumed them. 

That did not happen. 

In fact.

It was….. warm. 

They sobbed, just once, chest trembling as fur curled around them gingerly enough to almost be considered a loving embrace. 

“Rafa,” they half sobbed, trembling fingers coming to caress and grip the fur. 

“So small…” muttered a surprisingly soft voice. “Too small to be an Angel.”

Pattin flinched at the nickname on instinct. 

“Marie, you ought to know better.” The coils tightened —not uncomfortably, but enough that the tension left Pattin in a heavy breath, blinking slowly. “They would have barely been a child themselves when the Hour happened…. And they're calling for their mother.” 

“But they worked here-”

“And of the orphans? Would you have hurt them, as you had hurt all the others? Just for existing here?”

Silence. 

Pattin felt like their head was made of cotton; the near-suffocating, smothering fur against their weary body lulled them into a silent, almost peaceful daze. It reminded them of the warmth Raphael seemed to always emit— in those cold winter days when they would sneakily snuggle into the older's lap for cuddles, and soak them up like a water-neglected sponge. 

Rafa never pushed them away. 

Pattin nearly sobbed again. 

“If they are an Angel.” The Pugapillar continued, lifting her head higher, and Pattin barely saw the frame of Marie shrink, like a scolded child. “I will not let you bruise and batter them in a sick game. This ends here, you hear?” 

“….. Yes.. I… I hear.” 

“Good. We will meet you out at the stage.” 

“But-!!” 

PJ must have given Marie a look because the spider’s words died in her throat, and with a deflated huff, she stormed away. 

The silence here was longer. 

The coils loosened, not releasing, but not smothering either— hiding, Pattin realised, like a mother hen sitting on her chicks to hide them. She was… protecting them. 

Was she a she? They did have that motherly, sweet air around her—

“Easy, little one.” They murmured. “What is your name? You may call me Jam— rest easy; I won’t let anything touch you.” 

Pattin choked on their words, chest hitching and jumping with ragged sobs, scrubbing at their face. 

“P-Pat,” they croaked, barely. 

“It is nice to meet you, Pat.” Jam breathed gently, and her face never changed from its large, plastic-cased grin. “I am sorry it had to be like this. Our prophet- she means well, but the torture she was put through has bittered her soul to those who worked here. She will adjust with time to your presence, though I’d recommend staying with me, for now.”

They nodded, trying to hold back their already spilling tears. It failed. Pitifully. They burrowed their face into the fur and cried even harder. 

Jam didn’t scold. 

Didn’t move.

She just rested one of her many, silly little boots on their back and slowly, gently, rubbed their back. The action had Pattin crying even harder. 

It had been a decade since Pat was last held like this. 

………….

…………………..

…………..

………

…..

…

.

At some point…. Pattin had fallen asleep. 

They found themselves blinking heavily, actually, for once, rested, as they slowly stirred. Jam was still coiled around them, but now, instead of being in the statue's game room, they were back out in the station, off to the side, where all the little beds were. 

Something fluffy was pressed to my side, and looking down, Pattin realised that Lime had wiggled into my arms. Crab, looking far from happy, was perched just above, sitting on one of Jam’s many coils. I groaned, slowly sitting up, cradling my arms so Lime didn’t fall. 

Above my head, Crab hissed slightly. 

“Oh, hush you, cranky pant,” I said tiredly, as Lime giggled brightly in my arms. 

“Rested, Angel..?” Jam asked, voice hushed. Pattin lifted their head, exhaling weakly. “Yeah.. yeah, I am. Thank you,” 

No nightmares. 

No restlessness. 

Just…. Peace. Pattin had almost forgotten what it was like. Slowly, they staggered to their feet, looking down at the green fluff in their arms. Their heart ached bitterly. 

“I… I need to do something.” They said, voice frail. 

“Of course.” Whispered Jam, nudging Lime, having the little one clamber onto her head. “We will be waiting, Angel.” 

They… they weren’t good at this. 

They collapse near a sign of Huggy Wuggy, bits of wood, metal scrap and plastic in their arms. They started to sort through it, before sliding off their grab pack to retrieve something from their bag — their old, well-loved masking tape — and began to tape the junk into a rather sloppy cross. Unfolding one of the many Huggy Wuggy drawings that were stuck to the walls, they stuck it to the cross, leaning it against the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“You… you didn’t deserve the fate you got.” 

“….. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” 

They stared at the grave a little longer before slowly standing up, dragging their grab pack behind them. 

Marie and Jam were very comically arguing at the platform, as Pattin slowly approached, pulling their bag behind them. 

“We can’t just let them LEAVE!” Marie shrieked, oblivious to the fact that Pat was standing right next to her. 

“And I will not have another innocent’s blood stain on this floor, Marie,” Jam growled, fur bristling like a rabid dog, before smoothing her fur out and sitting on her lower half. “Sorry you had to hear that, Angel.” 

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve heard wors—”

“OH MY DAYS, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM-” 

Pattin flinched at the scream, while Marie jumped like she had seen a particularly ugly spider.

Pattin blinked at her, flinching a little again when Lime leapt from Jam and scaled up their shoulder like a delighted murky green monkey. “Paaa!!!” 

“Hi, Lime- careful, don’t fall,” Pattin said back, holding out their arm to increase the kids' surface area.

“I’m… I’m not gonna leave you all here.” Pattin said slowly. “You guys know that, right?” Marie scoffed loudly, while Jam’s ears perked up gently. 

“I’m not,” Pat said, a little firmer. “This is no place for children.” 

Marie recoiled slightly. 

Speaking of… 

“I was called here-” Pattin said suddenly, standing up straighter. “With this,” they rifled through their bag, pulling the note from it to show them. Jam and Marie leaned in, Marie squinting suspiciously. “It said the staff was still here..? Do you know where they are.???”

Do you know where my family is????

Marie twitched, coiling in and stared at the floor. Jam pushed forward, uttering softly. “They are below.” She looked back at the others, her eyes casting a pinprick of light. “That is all we will say.” 

The hope in Pattin’s chest trembled. Below. Deeper in the factory. 

Possibly alive.  

“Either way, we can’t leave,” Jam said softly. “It’s thoughtful of you, little one, but the only way out is with that train,” she nodded back at the brightly-colored train. “But Marie can’t go on it.” 

Pattin blinked. 

“Do you know what high velocity does to elastic?” Marie snapped, clearly defensive on the topic. 

“No, I don’t.” Pattin huffed, shooting her a levelled look, folding their arms. “But I suppose it isn’t good, if you all haven't left…” 

They bit their lip, reaching a hand up to gently pet Lime, who chirred delightfully. “I could go out and get more materials. Food. Water. We can work our way out another way?” I offered, thinking. 

Marie made a low laugh. “Like you would. You’d just bug off, like they all do.” She hissed darkly. 

“I’m not going to leave yo—”

“ANGEL!!” 

If I were completely honest, I had forgotten about Poppy throughout all the stresses of everything. And ya know. Nearly dying. 

Jackal walked behind her, holding a small Bron toy with a big, bright bow tied around its neck, the little doll frantically climbing up towards me. “Are you okay????”

“I’m- I’m fine, Poppy,” I said softly, kneeling down to her height. On my shoulder, Lime hissed at her, displeased. I ruffled their head to get them to calm down. 

“I was just discussing with Jam and Marie here-” I gave Marie a pointed look, “that I was gonna go out, and then come back with supplies and get us all out,” I said with a grin. 

And find my family, while I’m at it.  

Poppy made an odd little face, adding with a strained voice, “You have the code? Mommy Lon—“”

“Marie,” the spider thundered, her hair fraying out aggressively. 

“Marie….” Poppy said slowly, skittering away from the larger toy, “took the code off me.” 

Standing, Pattin turned to Marie, offering a soft smile. “I promise Marie…. I might not have much, but it’s a hell of a lot more than this…” 

Marie shifted, uncomfortable, murmuring. “You promise..?” 

“I swear it on my life,” Pattin said back loyally. 

The spider shifted before exhaling lowly. “Fine. Here.” She begrudgingly held out the last piece of the train code, picking up the little Bron Dino from Jackal and letting them curl around her neck like a little red plastic scarf. 

“I can go with them, Marie.” Jackal chimed, straightening. “To make sure they come back.” 

Poppy made a hitched noise, right as I beamed. “That would be totally fine! You can come along if you wish, Jackal.” 

He gave me a withering sort of look, though it was slightly fond at how I currently had a Lime choker purring around my neck. 

“…. Seems reasonable…” Marie mumbled, not pleased, but obviously not having options. “You’ll stay safe?” 

“I haven’t been training hard for nothin!!” Jackal said with a huff. 

I clapped my hands together, beaming. “It’s sorted then. Jackal, Poppy, and I will head out to get supplies and then return to pick up everyone else. We’ll play the rest by ear.” 

I bent down, offering Lime an easy ride off, startling slightly when Jackal took their spot on my shoulders, grumbling but cosying down. Blinking, I couldn’t help but smile, not saying anything as I stood, piecing the train code together as I moved past Marie to the train. 

“We’ll be back soon! With food!” I called as Poppy trotted past me into the back of the train's control room. 

“Bye, Marie! See you soon!” Jackal chimed, waving from his new perch on my shoulders. 

Jam squinted happily, waving a little boot as many of the Huggies chimed from her back. Marie watched us go with something close to fear in her eyes. Stay safe. She mouthed, the little Bron nuzzling her neck. 

She’s like an older sister. Pattin mused. I will make sure her brother returns. 

Pattin punched in the train code on the dashboard, then powered up the old machinery with their grab pack, pulling the lever to start it up. The flooring trembled as it groaned into motion. 

The train pulled out of the station and started to chug along, gently groaning. 

Poppy was in the back, apparently controlling the direction the train went. “You know…. I was so scared she’d put me back in that case.” Poppy said, just loud enough for Pattin to hear. 

Jackal scowled slightly from Pat’s shoulder as they turned a little to look over their shoulder. “But you saved me.” 

Pattin went to open their mouth, but they hesitated as Poppy turned to look at them, something odd in her sickly green eyes. “You're perfect.” She whispered. “Too perfect to lose. I’m sorry.” 

“Poppy, what are you talking about?” I asked, slightly concerned as I turned to face her. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” She continued. “Do you know how long I've been stuck in that case? Well, too long... I had so much time to think and reflect. Time to figure out exactly what I would do when free.” 

She looked past me, through the window. Before Pattin could turn to see what she was looking at, she flipped a lever. 

Pattin whipped around, realising that Poppy had switched our tracks. Instead of leaving, of fulfilling my promise- we were heading deeper into the factory. 

“You RAT,” Jackal roared, as a sign labelled “PLAYCARE” Zipped past the train, which was now speeding up, “YOU’VE DOOMED US!” 

“We'll set things right!!” Poppy cried, taking a step forward. “Terrible things have happened, but I know that whatever I need you to do, you're capable, Angel. We will…” 

Abruptly, a loud, blaring noise echoed from the machine, the train shuddering under their feet. “What-?” Poppy squeaked as Pattin realised that we were quickly gaining speed. 

“Shit- shit shit shit shit-”

I scrambled, trying to figure out a way to slow the train, as the railings buckled. 

“Pat,” Jackal’s voice was unusually hoarse. “Pat, what do we do-”

They moved, quickly yanking the lever down, the gears groaning as sparks flew, and a massive shudder ripped through the train as it derailed. 

“FUCK-”

Pattin barely has a moment to grab Jackal and pull him to their chest before they're being thrown into the train wall. They hit their head hard, stars exploding in their vision as the train is knocked entirely onto its side. 

Screaming metal is all they can hear as they curl frantically around Jackal to protect him. 

Smoke starts to fill their nose, and everything is still screaming as Pattin’s world suddenly drops into darkness.

Chapter Text

Pattin…. Didn’t know much about PlayCare.

In terms of the scandal, with CatNap, at least. 

There were only two reasons they ever came into PlayCare- to deliver supplies to the School, and to hang out with the kids on their breaks occasionally. They weren’t allowed to do the latter, normally, but sometimes they sneaked in. 

They always thought the Smiling Critters—the toys—were rather cute. Not their favourite, but cute nonetheless. They had heard through whispers, murmurs in the staff about CatNap, something about his scent, or some sort of gas he released- Pattin wasn’t in PlayCare enough to know— he ended up being recalled, or something. Pattin only knew that because they were part of the five-person team tasked with disposing of the CatNap toys. 

They were being dragged. 

Their side, their back, it ached with hot, blistering agony. Everything was hazy, black around the edges. Their chest burned, their eyes watered. They could barely see. 

They were…. Swinging..? Swaying almost. Claws curled in front of their vision, carrying them along. Purple. Black claws. Thick fur, but shaved paws. 

CatNap. 

They had always thought the larger versions of the toys were mascots- just people in suits. They could say that was correct, really, now that they knew the truth. Pattin made a weak moan, flinching as the large feline opened a massive opening, the metal groaning loudly. 

Where’s….. where’s Jackal….?

The cat hefted me up, and I yelped as my hip clanged painfully into the metal lip, shooting agonising spikes of pain up my side. The metal- despite the concerning situation- was blissfully cold against my burning side as I started to slide down the hatch, barely glimpsing up into the cold, void eyes of CatNap before vanishing into the depths. 

Pattin rolled as they hit the bottom, barely twitching as everything ached, unable to even whimper through the pain, sprawled out weakly on their side. 

Something shuffled against their burning back, moving to pull frantically at their shirt. 

Don’t be selfish. Get up. 

“PATTIN!!”

Jackal..?

“PATTIN, WAKE UP!!!” 

Pattin stirred into coherent consciousness, the sensation of a tiny toy rabbit fisting their shirt and shaking them. His ears were flat, eyes wide with uncharacteristic fear. 

“PAT!! WE NEED TO GO-”

The groaning of the walls finally loaded in Pattin’s ringing ears, and they tilted their head up a little, their hair smelling horribly like smoke. The walls were closing in on them. 

Trash compactor. 

“PATTIN,” Jackal roared, which splurged them into finally moving. 

“Okay- o-okay little man, let’s go,” they slurred out, still far, far, too disoriented for this as they staggered to their feet, wobbling terribly. Each step ached with blinding, white-tipped pain as Jackal practically dragged them over to a stack of foam blocks, ones that belonged in a play place, tugging insistently as Pattin poorly navigated their limbs into moving to climb up it, crawling through the hole in the wall to safety.  

The little amount of trash in the trash compactor groaned and squeaked painfully as it was crushed, a few seconds later. 

They stood there, brokenly wheezing for a second, the Bunzo toy hovering insistently around their legs, oddly concerned. 

They nudged him with their foot, doubled over, and hurled. 

Nothing thankfully came up other than saliva and slick, though dryly heaving wasn’t that pleasant either. 

“Pattin..?” Jackal said in a weak voice. Pattin would almost call it small. “I’m… I’m okay, little man.” They said roughly, their entire right side blistering from the movement, from their hands to their knees. They couldn’t even find the strength to cry. 

You have to stay strong. For him. 

They sucked in a slow breath, slowly straightening. Every movement throbbed horribly, but they probably weren’t safe here. Once they were safe, maybe they could look for a first aid kit or something similar. 

They almost laughed at the hopelessness of it all. 

They managed to slowly limp alongside the thick piston-like machinery, Jackal hot on their heels. They hit a dead end pretty fast, looking around before spotting the grab handles on the roof. “Climb up onto my back, kid.” Pattin grimaced, lifting their grab hand. 

Jackal went without complaint, clambering up their front before dipping under their arm to cling to their grab pack. Pattin fired the hand, lifting it slowly up onto the catwalks. They barely managed to keep standing when their battered converses hit the metal grate of the catwalk, fisting the railing until their knuckles went white to keep themselves standing. 

You could barely call it a catwalk, though… the walls were in ruins, torn through or crumbling. The metal was bent and dented in places, as if objects had been thrown against it. The writing here wasn’t in the horror playschool coloured crayon. 

It was in blood. 

Pattin missed the crayon. 

On their back, Jackal whimpered. “We’re fucked.” He croaked. “We’re so, so fucked.” 

Pattin did NOT expect this child to swear, and half choked on delirious laughter that was not appropriate for the current situation. “We’re not fucked,” Pattin promised, swaying slightly as they staggered past a particularly bloody “HELP” scrawled into the wall. 

“This is the Mad Hatter's territory!!” Jackal hissed, baring hooked fangs that had popped out. It must be a stress thing… “We are STUPIDLY lucky he didn’t feed us to his cult to begin with!!!” 

“Mad Hatter..?” Pattin slurred slightly, wincing as they ducked under a hole in a crumbled wall. 

“CatNap,” he hissed, like the word was cursed. “We all call him the Mad Hatter Prophet, though he’s barely one,” Jackal grumbled, before continuing, “cause he’s in control of PlayCare. It’s his playpen, his cult’s home base!! His shrine to the Father!” 

“Slow down, little man-” Pattin huffed, dizzy with this new info. “He’s a prophet..? Jam called Marie that, too.” 

Jackal let out a low sigh. “Right….. you don’t know anything.” They gave him a withering look, clumsily pushing a door open. They… really didn’t know where they were going. “Prophets are …. Toys.. experiments,.. whatever you want to call us, that are big enough, and strong enough to claim an area. For some of them, taking in smaller toys to… care… for them.” Jackal’s eyes squinted slightly. “Well, at least for Marie.” 

“She’s your prophet…. Your protector?” 

“Yes,” Jackal whispered. “There are others- Security, Soulless. I’m a follower,” 

“'Cause you follow your Prophet… who’s Marie,” I said slowly, pushing through another door. The halls were grimy, but not bloody. It was a nice change. “And CatNap is a Prophet as well?” 

“Yeah. But he runs a cult. They worship the Father.” 

Pattin's nose twitched, irritated, “and who’s the Father?”

There was a patch of silence. “The Prototype,” Jackal whispered. 

A sudden chill went down Pattin’s burning back. 

1-0-0-6. The Prototype.

“1006.” Pattin breathed weakly. 

Jackal turned their face into Pattin’s neck, nodding weakly. “He was the first,” 

Pattin gritted their teeth, swallowing thickly. 

Another door. And now there were these pistol-looking things, and nothing but the blissful void below. 

The path continued on the other side. 

This was gonna hurt like a bitch. 

Pattin inhaled, checking that Jackal was secured, before running up and jumping onto the first piston. Agony shot up their side. 

Next one. The throbbing hit their shoulder. 

Third one. Their eyes were starting to water. 

They hit the middle platform, crashing into the railing. They were shaking. Their right leg buckled slightly. 

“Pattin-?” 

“I’m FINE, Jackal.” 

The rabbit said nothing. 

They breathed heavily for a little while before pushing off the railing. They manage the next three without passing out into the blackness and smoke below. 

Was the smoke red….? 

It was hard with how much their vision was swimming. 

They made it to the next platform, having to lean against the wall to keep themselves upright. Jackal suddenly went rigid, and Pattin lifted their head, only freezing as they saw CatNap’s legs and tail slowly disappear up into a vent. 

“That can’t be good,” Pattin whispered. “OBVIOUSLY,” Jackal hissed, barely bringing his voice to a whisper. 

“Do you think he knows we survived the trash compactor…?” 

“I’m… I’m not sure.” Jackal admitted. “Let’s just get out of here and back to the Game Station as fast as we can.” 

Pattin nodded, slowly moving to pull the conveyor belt over, and hopped on, wincing at how loud it was. 

And then…. Vents. 

Was it bad that they were so numb to fear that they barely cared anymore? 

Pattin made a loose, shrugging motion, urging Jackal to go first. The rabbit bounced off their shoulder and crawled into the vent. Pattin followed after, the grab pack occasionally banging on the roof. Each bang made their ears ring, their body twitch. Putting all their energy into focusing on where Jackal was going, and not on how much everything hurt. 

“Here!!” Jackal hissed, a grate creaking as he pushed it up, holding it up for Pattin. 

It was a communal room. 

Pattin’s heart joined in on the aching as they shimmed out of the vent. They sluggishly crawled over to the couch, managing to sit on it, and dumped their grab pack and bag to the floor. Their bag was severely burnt; it was a miracle that it was still intact after all that—and so was their favourite grey shirt.

They pulled it off, and then slowly their blue singlet, whimpering where the fabric had fused to their blistering skin. There was an ugly pink and red blistering from the start of their forearm up to their shoulder. From the feel of things, it spread to their back as well, marring them in peeling skin and weepy wounds. In some areas, the fire had burned deeply, leaving a dry, comb-like wound of crusty flesh. 

Pattin resisted the urge to gag. “Jackal,” they called hoarsely, barely conscious. “Jackal. I need you to look in the kitchen.” Their eyes closed, but they dared not rest back into the couch with their back like this. “I need you to see if there’s a med kit.” 

Silence. 

Pattin looked over… and Jackal’s ears were flat, his little white pupils pinpricks. But he didn’t seem aggressive…… he seemed scared. 

“Hey.” Pattin croaked, managing a wonky grin. “Little man, this is nothing. I just need some cream… and maybe a power nap, and I’ll be peachy, swear,” 

They nodded off in the direction of the kitchen. “Could you go look? I’m not going anywhere, okay?” 

Jackal nodded, slowly, then faster, turning to dash off. A couple of minutes later, Pattin hears cupboards being slammed. 

They sighed silently, gritting their teeth as they kept themselves upright.

They felt like they were about to tilt off into unconsciousness when Jackal came back with a small black cloth medkit. “Atta boy,” Pattin whispered, reaching out to lightly scratch Jackal behind his ears, just like how Raphael use to for them. 

“Alright, open it up. See if there’s any burn cream. Should be like a little tubey thing.” 

Jackal rummaged through it and held out two half-used tubes to them, after minimal struggle. His little paws were quivering. “Good. Good,” Pattin breathed, taking one of the tubes from his offered paws, reading over it. Not that that did much, given how everything was blurring out of focus. 

They then reached for their grey sweatshirt. The back was badly singed, but it was the right sleeve that sustained the most damage; their bag and grab pack probably protected the back from too much damage. Pattin sighed weakly. This shirt had seen so much. It was their favourite. 

They put the seam of the sleeve in between their teeth and yanked. The sleeve tore off, and they held the sleeve between their teeth before squeezing a generous amount of cream into their palm. 

They gave Jackal, who was still clinging to the medkit, a weak grin before smearing the cream over their arm. They jerked at the cold, grinding their teeth into the fabric, their nose flaring as they held back tears. They were okay. They were okay. They left it pretty thick on their arm before trying to figure out how to get the remainder on their back. 

“Here,” Jackal said weakly. “I’ll do your back.” 

Pattin turned sideways, letting Jackal gather up the cream-white mess on their hand and start to smear it over their back. From the way the Bunzo toy was applying the cream, the burn must be bad. 

Pattin tried not to think about it, exhaling as the stinging faded into blissful numbness. They spat out their sleeve, half-hazardly flicking open the flap of their bag to retrieve their little sewing bag to pull out their trusty fabric scissors. Cutting through the sleeve, they ended up with a large sheet of fabric. Or in this case, a bandage.

They cut off a smaller section, gently wrapping it around their upper arm. Something told them they’d need more bandages in the future. Fastening it with a safety pin, Pattin slumped tiredly. “All done, kid?” 

“Yeah… It’s all covered.” Whispered Jackal. 

“Good. I’m… I’m gonna rest for a little while, okay? Help yourself to anything.” Pattin murmured, too exhausted to care if they technically didn’t own anything in here. They flopped chest first into the cushions, ignoring the tears and stains, and let out a breath into the slightly musty pillow. 

The nagging drag of darkness and fatigue pulled at them- the agony of the now numbed burns, and what was most definitely a concussion. 

Jackal settled at their side, sitting, unmoving. 

This is probably so scary for him. 

Pattin exhaled and closed their eyes, wishing they could do more. 

Chapter Text

Pattin felt like they barely closed their eyes before they awakened again. They groaned, shifting painfully before freezing at the soft velvet against their good arm.

They looked down, only to find Jackal curled against their side, tucked under their arm. He was awake, staring at Pattin’s chest, silently fidgeting with the buttons on his overalls. 

Pattin slowly shifted their hand, gently ruffling their tiny tuff of hair. “Didn’t take you for the cuddle type.” They said weakly. I thought you didn’t like me, hovering silently between them. 

Jackal looked up, slightly surprised at their movement. 

“…you saved me.” 

Pattin blinked. 

“Before.” Jackal continued, voice strangled. “On the train. It started to break down—” his shoulders hitched up, joints creaking loudly. He was trembling badly. “You saved me. You grabbed me, you shielded me.” 

“You,” he croaked, and Pattin made a wounded noise as they spotted the thick, blurry tears in his eyes. “You really are an Angel.” 

The word Angel hit like a skewer to the heart- and Pattin really started to realise just how important this title was. This wasn’t a silly little nickname anymore- this was a name with expectations. 

Pattin wasn’t very good at fulfilling expectations. 

“Of course I did,” Pattin hushed, wiping the tears away. “I might not have said it, but I made a promise to return you to your family.” 

“I wasn’t gonna go breaking it so soon.” 

Jackal sobbed weakly. “You’re- you're not like the other employees.” He said, scrubbing uselessly at his face with his big mitts. 

“I’m not like a lot of people.” Pattin joked softly, holding him closer. “And you're just a child. It would be wrong not to protect you.” Pattin murmured into his forehead. “Either way, I know you’d normally be super capable.” They teased, nudging him. “You nearly got me in musical memory.” 

“Like hell I did.” He grumbled, weakly grinning. “I nearly smashed your skull with my cymbals.” 

Horrifying. 

Pattin grinned back, their heart softening at the kids' smile. “Yeah. You barely need me to protect you. In fact, you could probably protect me.” 

The kid giggled in their arms, pushing their face with a big mitt. “Shuttup….” He murmured, hiding his smile with his ears. 

His face then sombered, looking at their arm, “You okay now..? You were very hurt. You're not like us, you can’t be fixed with thread….” 

Pattin’s heart ached before slowly moving their shoulder, rotating it as they moved their body slowly. “Think I’m okay now.” They breathed. It throbbed, but not as badly as before. Maybe they could take some painkillers. Hopefully. 

“Hurts a little, but I’ll ransack that med kit for pain killers.” I lifted my head, spotting the rather full-looking vending machines. 

N-oted. 

“I’m gonna have to find a new backpack anyway,” Pattin murmured, nudging their soot-stained one. “I’m lucky I didn’t lose anything,” 

“Yeah…. Sorry, I might have ripped it,” Jackal winced, shifting as Pattin slowly sat up. 

“Huh?”  

“I hid in it when CatNap found us,” the Bunzo toy explained. Pattin arched a brow. “Smart thinking, kid.” They praised, coming to a shaky but strong stand. 

They looked around before picking up a chair and giving it a few experimental swings, testing not only their own body’s capabilities - currently - but also the chair's strength. Deeming both strong enough, I spun on my heel and slammed the chair into the glass of the “Candy Cat Snacks” vending machine. 

It bounced. 

Gritting my teeth, I swung harder. 

Glass shattered, exploding into the machine under the pressure. Pattin turned with a grin, dropping the chair to gesture to the machine. “Vending machines always fold under two to three hits.” 

Jackal beamed, stars in his eyes. “THAT WAS SO COOL!!!” 

Pattin laughed, waving him over as they sorted through the machine. “Here, little man, help me out with this.” 

They ransacked the vending machine, taking all its goods between them, and dumped them on the floor in front of the couch. Pattin noticed a VHS tape and kicked it discreetly under the TV stand. 

Jackal had been through enough. 

They didn’t need more horrors right now. 

“Alright, hopefully…” Pattin mumbled as they moved over to the lockers, hunting through them. “Ah-HA!” They pulled a new bag from the locker and merrily moved over to the little Toy. It wasn’t a messenger bag, but it would do for now. 

Replacing Pattin’s old bag with the new one on the Grab pack, Pattin worked on making sure the bag was empty of useless shit before starting to transfer their things into it. 

The new bag had a really old-looking lunch box, which Pat stole; all the vending machine snacks were neatly stacked and put inside alongside their two muesli bars, minus two, and then slotted into the bottom of the bag. “Eat up, kid,” Patton said, sliding the little chip packet over to Jackal. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. Jackal tore into the packet with reckless abandon. 

Next—the medkit. Pattin went through the entire thing, sorting out what was there. They found some very expired painkillers, which they took anyway because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, at this rate, before tucking all of the useful items back into the black bag and into Pattin’s bag-2.0. 

Onto their things. Their little sewing kit found a pocket to tuck into. Pattin managed to smuggle their cigarettes and lighter into another back pocket without Jackal noticing, given how engrossed he was in the chips. Out came Betty, alongside the folded pieces of paper and VSH tape. The evidence was placed in a front pocket, and Betty was put on top of the cookie container. 

The duct tape was tossed next to Betty, alongside their bottle, from which they took a long sip. Hopefully, the tap in the kitchen still worked. Unlikely, though. They offered the bottle to Jackal, which they had to hold and pour the water into his mouth as his mitts couldn’t hold the bottle without it slipping. 

Then, finally.. a ratty old book. It was tucked into the far back corner, sheltered from the damage their bag got, thankfully. They breathed a sigh of relief, holding it with trembling hands to their chest. They hadn’t looked at it in years, yet they couldn’t bear to exist without it. 

Pathetic, am I right? 

They opened it. 

Pages. Pages and pages- receipts, notes, little folded parts of napkins. And photos. So many photos. 

Too many- memories of a better time. 

Pattin stopped at one that filled the two pages of one part of the book. There were five people in that photo. Pattin was one of them, beaming with chipped teeth at the camera, arms tossed over the two younger ones. They were all wearing their uniforms- a last-minute thing at work, a celebration of something they couldn’t remember. They stared at it, a numb ache in their chest, throat thick. 

“Who’s that..?” Jackal asked softly, peering over the table. 

“My family.” Pattin croaked, their thumb sliding over the worn paper. “That’s Raphael… Charlie.. and the Twins.” Their voice cracked painfully as they closed it. 

They slipped it into the deepest, safest pocket they could find, exhaling as they came to a stand. Taking the water bottle with them, they moved over to what was left of the kitchen. 

Jackal said nothing, staring at the bag where the little book lay. 

They tried the tap, willing themselves to think of anything else. It groaned and spluttered before spitting out water, and Pattin filled the bottle till the water spilled over and soaked their fingers. 

They moved on to checking through all the cupboards, which were unfortunately empty. 

They wandered back, dumping the bottle into their bag with the rest of their things, before zipping it up. “Common kid.” They said softly, pulling on their singlet as carefully as they could, before they're now missing-one-sleeve shirt, snatching up the lone chip packet on the table. “Let's move.”

Near the kitchen was a sliding metal door, which appeared to be powered only by the thick battery blocks Pattin had used on the occasion. They immediately started to look for them, scanning the far right and realising that this was where the hatch of the trash compactor was located. They swallowed faintly, instead peering through a door that was half barricaded. Spotting a battery, they fired their grab hand to retrieve it before slotting it into place. The door did its half-chime. The other was hiding behind some cardboard in a shelving unit in the kitchen. The blue hand lit up happily, and they pressed the hand to the plate, bending at the knees as it loaded. “Hop on up, lil man. Just in case.” 

Jackal bounced onto their knee, then onto their back, clinging to the back of their grabpack. The weight was very uncomfortable against their back, but it was well worth it. What choice did they have?

There were only them, the flickering lights, and Jackal’s slightly shaky breathing as they walked along the narrow hall. Patton tore open their own chip packet and promptly knocked it back, crunching on the slightly stale chips as they made their way to the end of the hallway, before tossing the empty packet over their shoulder. At the end, there was another cutout —one of Bubba Bubbaphant. 

Pattin looked at it, then at Jackal, and went up to press the button. 

“I’m Bubba Bubaphant!”

“Hey! I remember you!” 

Jackal perks up curiously, tilting his head. 

“You wanna press it?” Pattin hums, smiling silently. The Bunzo bunny nods, reaching out slightly. Pattin bends down enough that Jackal can reach, pushing the button again. 

“An elephant always remembers!” 

Again. 

“Want to know what I remember about you?” 

Jackal smiles, snorting. 

Again. 

Screaming. 

Pattin flinched away, half reaching to make sure Jackal didn’t fall, as the cut out kept going, this horrid wailing half laugh-half cry, before peaking and wrangling off into static. Pattin found themselves several steps away from it, fisting their shirt. Jackal was pressed to their neck, physically shaking. 

“That…. Was something…” Pattin whispered, swallowing. 

Jackal whimpered. 

They moved from the cutout down another small hall. As they reached the end, they jolted out of their skin as a sudden ringing happened—like a phone chime. They looked around, but there was no phone in sight. 

“How fuckin loud…” Pattin mumbled, instead locating a green hand charger. They smacked it before rushing up the stairs, nearly slipping, but squeezing their eyes closed and looking up when they saw red. They reached the top, rounded to the left and charged up another portal, which opened a very creaky door. 

The next room had another door that needed a battery, along with only a shelving unit and a large piece of machinery. Now the ringing was so loud that Jackal had flinched and pulled up his headphones, causing his ears to lie behind him. 

Next to the shelving unit was a red phone, glinting under a single light and ringing obnoxiously. 

Pattin walked up to it and, with their hand, pulled it off the wall. “…. Hello..?” 

“Hey…. Hey, can you hear me? You look kinda lost! I don’t want you to die- so I’m gonna help you!” 

Pattin blinked. “Thank you..?” They said, utterly confused. 

“Watch- check this out!”

Something rattled behind Pattin, and they spun, watching as the battery fell from it and onto a trolley under it. 

“BUH-BOOM!!! You can use that battery to open the door!” 

“Huh, thank you.” Pattin mused, taking it and slotting it into the holder, the door opening slowly. Pattin took a step out and got blasted with heat. They winced, shielding their burnt side from it, lifting an arm to shield their eyes from the trainwreck in front of them. 

Emphasis on train. 

The game station train was crooked on the tracks, having hit the walls, which damaged them and caused them to collapse in some spots. The entire front of the train was engulfed in flames. 

“There goes our easy route back home…” Jackal said, his voice cracking painfully. 

“Wooooooah…” came the young voice from the phone. “Did you do that? I guess that’s where CatNap found you…..”

“Something like that, little buddy,” I said, swallowing thickly. Moving to turn away, head down, away, from the Game Station, the phone buzzes again. “I know you're probably mad at Poppy for not letting you leave,” 

“MAD???” Jackal snarled from my shoulder. “TRY ENRAGED.” 

“Mad’s puttin' it a little lightly,” I huffed softly, hopping down onto the tracks. 

“But she needs you. We need you! You are our mission!” 

I stilled, something not sitting quite right with me. 

“Together, we can save a lot of people- including you!” 

“Hold up-” I said, head spinning. How far did this plan go? Was this Poppy’s plan all along? “Buddy, listen- wait- what’s your name, kid?” 

“Oh! My name is Ollie!! Nice to meet you!” 

“Right. Ollie. Pat and Jackal. Look- I made a promise, pal. I said I would get out, not to escape but to gather resources. I wasn’t gonna leave.” I threaded my hand through my hair, blinking at the insanity of it all. “I need to get to the surface- or at least to the Game Station.” 

“Or- could you call the Game Station????” Jackal called over my shoulder, anxious. “Tell them what happened- so they know we’re okay?” 

“I can try, but phones are unfortunately limited, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach anyone.” 

“Also-” Pattin added quickly, “you think you could lower the ringer tone..? It’s. Very. Loud.” Jackal softened slightly in the corner of Pat’s eye, the headphones still lopsided on his head. 

“Oh- sure!!! There are lifts throughout the factory- there’s one in PlayCare! We might get you back up to the Game Station if needed through that! You'd better get moving quickly, though - CatNap will be quick to realise you're still alive! We’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Okay,” Pattin whispered, even though Ollie had already hung up. They pulled themselves from the tracks and into what must be the PlayCare station. It…. Had seen better days. Panels from the roof were missing or hanging by a thread. The “next train is coming at…” sigh had fallen and smashed on the floor; tiles were shattered, and the bodies of toys littered the floor. It looked like a massacre. 

In the centre was a metallic statue of Huggy, horrifically splattered in blood, and on either side were those rotating gates similar to those back in the lobby on the main floor. 

Pattin paused for a second. “The only way into Playcare from the Station is through the lift,” they mumbled softly, fiddling with the phone to see if they could attach it somewhere to them so they didn’t lose it. “But if the power is down, it won’t work.” 

Jackal blinked, slightly surprised. He’d been quiet except for shuffling closer to Pattin since Ollie hung up. “What? I was a shipping kid, I know all the routes within my access.” I said with a grin, turning to the door labelled ‘maintenance’. 

The glass window on it was smashed. 

Fuckin child’s play. 

They reached through the window and unlocked it from the inside, then wandered in.

Inside, Pat is faced with some hellish contraption. They stare at it for a long time, silently pondering whether it was put here to piss them off purposely. 

It took. A couple tries before they understood (they weren’t smart; they barely passed High School math). They had to rotate it so that it pointed at one of the charges, put one grab hand on the other, and fire the other hand through the machine, causing it to spin around the pole and hit the other charge. 

“I want to send whoever made this to hell personally.” Pat hissed once they were done, storming off as the machine mockingly trilled its happy notes, kicking the door open with enough force to crack against the wall as it swung open. “Welcome to PlayCo,” Jackal said dryly, and Pat couldn’t help but snort. 

The lights were now on in the station as they passed through the gate, trudging up the stairs to a larger by smaller room connected to a bigger room—the entrance to Elliot’s Express. 

Pat silently read the words above the name- ‘See the world through the eyes of a child on…’ and silently swallowed. And then- another vending machine caught their eye. 

Pat grinned. 

After teaching Jackal the important bonding skill of breaking into a vending machine and loading up on more snacks, the small bunny toy in question pulled Pattin’s attention to another cutout- this one being Kickin Chicken. 

Pat walked up to it and looked down at Jackal, who was staring at it like it personally owed him answers, before pressing the button. 

“Hey!! I’m Kickin Chicken! Wanna go outside and hang out?”

Okay. Typical jock behaviour. Again.  

“It’s lookin’ pretty rad outside!”

Again. 

“I’ve…. Never been outside before.” 

Pat swallowed, gritting their teeth. Did these reflect the children? Those that were trapped here in bodies that aren’t their own? Again. 

“Will you come with me…? I’m scared.” The voice had lost its oozing confidence. Jackal shifted closer to Pat’s leg. Again. 

“Here, follow me. I’ll step out first.” 

Pat hesitated, then pressed again. They stared at the confident, cocky cartoon as screams erupted from the cardboard. Jackal turned his head, pressing his face into Pat’s calf. 

“Common, lil man.” They said hollowly, strolling past it and into the main area, where the cart would take them into PlayCare. 

There were even more toys here than there were down at the station, torn apart, dismembered, impaled, and hung. Pat bowed their head in silent respect as they moved around the corner to one of the levers that activated the lift. Scrawled next to it was a single word. Joy. Jackal waited on the steps as Pat jogged to the other side to pull that lever, the wall of which was marred with large, thick claw marks. 

The lift groaned as the door opened, and Pat wandered back around to the front, looking at Jackal silently. “Ready to go deeper into the unknown?” They asked, trying to joke. 

“If you kill us, I’m gonna strangle you.” 

“That’s the spirit!”

Chapter Text

The lift rumbled, pulling from the station with a groan as it slid into a tunnel, leaving this part of the factory. The seats were intact- and Pat sat down on one, trying to get comfortable. Jackal sat right up against them, fidgeting with his buttons again. 

A TV, which Pat hadn’t seen, suddenly crackled- and then spoke. 

“Hello! My name is Elliot Ludwig."

Pattin turned their head, face flickering through several emotions- alarmed, anger, disappointment, and then silent grief. Unaware of the emotional turmoil the video was causing Pattin, with the voice of the man they idolised and the photo of him, face blurred out, it continued. 

"When you look around at the world today, what one thing do you think it needs more of? I asked around, once."

"Money, I never have enough."

"Understanding, I can never get any."

"Faith, the common man has lost it."

“Sounds like my parents.” Grumbled Pat, slightly ticked off. Jackal looked up at them, confused, and Pat shrugged it off. Looking out the window instead, they stared out into the massive caverns of the cave system that PlayCare’s foundation was built in. Something nagged at them, and they stared at their shoes instead. 

"Each answer was different... and I could perhaps see some little truth in each. But I think each was also missing something. Something simple."

"You see, not one of them could muster a smile."

Jackal rested his head gently on Pat’s arm, gingerly, with its delicate state. Pat closed their eyes, resting their head against the glass, and pretended this moment was the same as the ones they’d had a decade ago; riding the lift to listen to this transcript when everything was fine, and everyone was still here. 

"A smile is hope."

"A smile is love."

"A smile is understanding."

Pattin smiled, though it was wobbly, willing themselves not to cry. 

"And there is nothing more gratifying to my soul than being the reason for a child's smile."

"To be the spark that ignites all their hopes and dreams. For it is only through hopes and dreams that we may create a better world. One where our children need not be afraid. One where they are protected."

"After all, this company and its toys are nothing without them."

The hatred that burned their chest made them so sick they wanted to cramp up into a ball and writhed away.

I. Trusted. You.

"These children deserve to smile, they deserve to love, and they deserve a safe home."

"That is why it is with enormous pleasure that, as the founder of Playtime Co., I announce... PLAYCARE!"

And there it was. PlayCare. PlayCare was massive — a massive dome that from the outside seemed like nothing — but the inside? 

"Our very own onsite orphanage."

"But it's not only that."

The walls of the dome were painted blue; a single beacon light was fixed to the top as a sun. Physically strung up were clouds that hovered down, surrounding the middle pillar; a massive stone ornament with each of the Smiling Critters on it. One of them had been knocked off - the rim under it crumbled away - from this distance, Pat assumed it was CatNap. The place was empty. 

"It's a school, a playhouse, a place to belong."

Like the game station, Pat had only been in these locations a rare few times, and every time, it was bustling with life. Now, it was empty- isolated, a silent reminder that something terrible had happened here. 

"Our very own ecosystem beneath the surface, dedicated in every inch and detail to ensuring a child's smile."

The once-bustling ecosystem was now barren - things lay knocked over, buildings in ruins as the little real plantage consumed all it could under this fake sun. 

"It's teachers, counsellors, mothers and fathers, until such a time they have all of that in you."

They were nearing the station end for the lift- and Pat nudged Jackal up, the kid taking his spot on Pat’s shoulder as they stood up. 

"May Playcare bring joy, inspiration, and smiles to all who enter these doors."

The worst part? For Pattin- naive, stupid Pattin? PlayCare had. It always had. They couldn’t help but remember nights underneath their bed, crying into their torn pillow, wishing that they could have lived in a place like this. 

And now? 

Now…. They didn’t know how they felt. 

"For what gives life its meaning, if not a smile?" 

Dust filtered down from outside as the door slid open, allowing access to the outside. Pat coughed, covering their face as they stepped out into the lift's station- immediately being greeted by a headless Huggy toy. The tiles were smashed and missing; poles were knocked over, and safety bars were bent. 

Pat spotted an impaled Bunzo toy and turned so fast to move along so that Jackal didn’t see it, and nearly tripped over a fallen pole and ate the steps. 

“SON OF A FUCKIN BITCH,” they roared as they desperately half fell—half sprinted down the stairs to maintain balance, converses squeaking very angrily as they staggered to a stop. 

“Fuck.”  Pat breathed, before nearly jumping into a bush as the phone, now strapped to their side—courtesy of the chain loops they wore on their hip as a designer statement, now turned survival item—rang. 

At least this time it wasn’t too loud. 

They picked it up, barely getting a word in before Ollie was going off. 

“Psssst. It’s me again, Ollie!!” 

“Hey Ollie,” Pat breathed, relieved. “We made it into PlayCare, buddy.” 

“Cool place, right?” Ollie chimed, seeming… far too cheerful for this. “The kids used to live here.” 

Jackal shrank back, pressing his head into Pat’s neck more firmly. Pat tilted their head to look at him, confused, but the rabbit toy wouldn’t look at them. 

“Now look at it…” Ollie trailed off before brightening back up again. “Anyways! Do you see that statue in the middle of the room? Take the stairs that go under it. There’s a really cool room in there that powers literally ALL of PlayCare!! I can give you a key down there!” 

Pat perked up. A key. That sounds promising. They moved over to the statue, weaving through either dying or overgrowing bushes and fake poppy flowers to the door built into the side of the statue. They headed down, murmuring. “You okay, Jack?”

The toy in question flinched before appearing to swallow, which was not something Pat knew he could do. 

“I’m okay.” He murmured gently, tucking closer to their neck and ear. “This place…. It just reminds me of a lot of memories I don’t like…” 

Pat froze as the dots connected. If the game station was used to test the kids' capabilities —and those kids were used for the experiments — 

And those kids were from PlayCare……

It was the perfect ploy, really - who would notice if a couple of kids, no one wanted, who were kept below the surface with no contact to the outside world, went missing? 

Who would care?????

PlayCo. was experimenting on orphans. 

I had to physically lean against the wall not to be sick, shuddering at the awful realisation of it all. 

“Pat….?”

“It’s okay, Jackal.” Do not cry in front of him. Do not scare him. He’s just a kid. “We’re gonna make this quick, yeah? In and out, like we were never here.” 

The toy nodded slowly, joints creaking. “Okay..” 

Pat rounded out into the area, ignoring the ‘restricted access’ sign entirely, looking to the left and then the right, slightly spooked at the goofy ass machine with too many eyes. 

“Uh…. Ollie…?” 

No response. 

They went right, walking along until they saw the familiar tube that Ollie had used before- to send them the battery. They walked up to it, opening the grated door, just in time for a key to slide along the tube and stop in front of Pat. 

“See? Easy peasy.” Pat said to Jackal, trying to cheer him up, and took the key from the hook. 

“You got the key?” Ollie called, startling Pat again. 

“You bet, lil buddy!”

“Now the question you're probably asking yourself is: where does it go?” 

“Easy on the games, kid, we want this to be a speedy visit, okay?” Pat hummed, not unkindly. 

“Oh-” Ollie’s voice crackled oddly, before clearing. “Well, the thing is that the key leads to the Gas Production Zone, which is just left to the carrier car you took down here! I need you to relocate the red smoke!”

Pat took a short breath. “Look, Ollie- I want to help you, but I told you, I made a promise. I need to honour that first.” 

“We’ll- there is a lift like I mentioned in there too! But below has been flooded with massive amounts of red smoke- even if you skipped straight to using the lift, you wouldn’t make it through the smoke!” 

Pat gritted their teeth, taking even breaths through their nose. They had no other way; they knew that there was no way back from the PlayCare station to the Game Station without the train. “Of course.” 

So much for Easy Peasy….. 

“Alright. We’re heading there now.” 

They left the statue, and Pat made their way back up towards the lift again, noticing a door with a beckoning red light above it. 

“Okay. Game plan.” Pat murmured. “If this does take longer than it should… I want you to stay in the room below the statues, okay?” 

“What— why?!” Jackal whisper-shouted, and as he spoke, Pat didn’t miss that his hooked teeth had popped out. 

“Cause this place is not safe. And I don’t think I can deal with all of this and ensure you're safe. And there’s red smoke. And this place clearly is not a pleasant place for you.” Pat snapped, just a little, before exhaling. “I trust you to be able to hold your own, Jackal. I just don’t think I’ll be able to, as well. I want you to stay somewhere safe until this is over and I can get us both out safely.”

They pulled out the key as they reached the door. “'Cause I have a feeling this is gonna be a lot more complicated than it has any right to be.” 

The door opened with a resounding click as Pat wandered in, Jackal secured on their shoulders. They walked down the narrow passages, pipes and large tubs lining the walls, which were painted blue and yellow. A Catbee cardboard cutout sat at the end of the hall, lounging in a pot of honey. 

They turned right, through the only door, into a side room, before emerging into a massive room —it almost looked like a warehouse. In the centre, in front of them, were three massive tubes built into a MASSIVE slab of machinery, with the tube on the far right being filled with a thick red smoke. 

Cables ran like snakes across the floor- boxes and garbage bags carelessly thrown in corners, large metal containers knocked over and rusting, cockroaches and flies buzzing insistently. 

Pattin almost admired the bug's stubborn will to live. 

“Welcome to the Gas Production Zone- the beating heart of the whole evil PlayCare system.” Came the crackle of Ollie’s voice. 

Pat hummed, taking a careful step out into the room. 

“All that gas in the machine you see? It’s made right here in the factory.” 

“I’m assuming that’s the Red Smoke you were talking about..?” Pat murmured, eyes flickering. It landed on the machine's control panel- that of course- read: ‘NO POWER. GENERATOR STATUS: OFFLINE.’

“Yeah- if you want to use the elevator down below to get back up to Game Station- you're gonna have to move it all to the left! The machine will probably have a few dumb safeguards for you to work around, but I think you can do it!” 

“I’ll call you once it’s done.” 

“Rodger that, buddy.”

Pattin bent at the knee to let Jackal off- and started to explore. They needed power, so something must be faulty with the generator. That or something is preventing the power. 

To the left, there was an elevator. No matter how many times they pressed the button, it wouldn’t open. Further along from the elevator, there was a door leading to another open room, with what must have been the lift that Ollie was talking about. Damn. That’s a big lift. 

“Pat!!!” 

Pat looked down at Jackal, practically in between their legs, pointing frantically to something off to the right of the lift room. They turned their head as Jackal paddled off towards it —a soft, green glow of a battery. “Atta boy, Jack!” Pat cheered, grinning as they loosely jogged over to help him pull it from the containment unit it was in. 

Pattin hefted it into their arms before grinning. “Say. Race ya to the other side?” Jackal perked and grinned. 

“Ready..?” 

“Set….” 

“GO!!!” 

Jackal zipped off at extreme speeds that Pattin was not ready for, shouting a little as they gave chase across the warehouse to the other side. There were two slots on the wall, one for the small green battery and one for the larger blue one. They were huffing a little by the time they got over there. 

Jackal reached the shut door first, slamming his paw into it. “I win!!!!” 

“You definitely did,” Pat puffed, smiling at the other as they touched the door shortly after him. “You're a speedy one, huh?” 

“I’m the fastest at the Game Station,” Jackal said gleefully, preening enough that his little tuffy fur puffed up.  

“We should definitely race again when I’m not carrying a massive battery and half burnt,” Pat joked, slotting said battery into its required home, causing the door to roll up and open. 

They were met with a long side room, housing nothing but rubble, a flickering TV, a VHS player, and several of those canisters Jackal had found the batteries in; one of them bathing an object in bright LEDs. They wandered up to it as Jackal searched around, finding it to be a coiled-up grab pack— with a hand Pattin had never seen before. 

A purple one. 

“Huh,” Pat said faintly. 

“I found a tape!!!!” Jackal called, holding up a green tape from the pile of rubble he’d been digging in. “You are on fire, little man.” Pattin huffed with a grin, pulling the grabpack from the canister and gathering the lengthy bastard in their arms. 

“Pop it in for me, Jack?” 

Jackal carried the tape with careful, steady precision until he reached the player, as Pat continued to half-carry, half-drag the new grab pack over. They only looked up as the janky ass music started to play, seeing the screen was terribly cracked across the top. 

The video introduced the Grabpack 2.0 and its capabilities, including extended wires, the ability to swap hands, and an air jet to slow people’s falls from a high distance. Pattin whistled, impressed. 

“Damn.” 

They looked at the new grab pack, and then at their current one, and slowly sat down, sliding it off their back. “What are you doing..?” Jackal asked softly, large paws gently resting on their knee. 

“I’m gonna..” Pat murmured, fidgeting with the green hand. “See if I can…” 

Click. 

The green hand popped off with relative ease, and Pattin silently thanked their experience fucking with the hand before. “Add it to this new grab pack.” Pattin finished, pulling their bag off where they’d hooked it to the old grab pack, nudging it away with their foot. 

It took a couple more frustrating minutes to work out the mechanics that allow for multiple hand usage, but Pat locked it into place with a sharp grin. 

“There we go!” 

It was a little more complicated to get the straps of the bag over the grab pack with the new air jets, but they managed to get the bag nestled snugly between them. They pulled the entire cluster fuck of items on, struggling slightly as they adjusted to the new weight, before standing up. They flicked through the two hands, exhaling with a sharp grin. 

“How do I look, Jack?” 

They pulled a silly pose. 

“Like a tin can.” Jackal huffed, snorting to himself and barely suppressing the smile he had. 

“Flattering.” They rolled their eyes, strolling out of the room. 

There was a purple mark on the floor- a purple one. Pattin looked at their new hand and then the mark on the floor. 

They walked up to it before smacking the hand into it. A sudden jolt went through their body, and they were suddenly launched into the air. 

“HOLY SH-”

Thank goodness for the air jets, or they would not have landed on their two feet. 

They blinked, exhaling. “Okay. Okay.” 

They turn to look at Jackal before leaning down. “You're gonna have to really hold on for this one, bud.” 

Up scampered the rabbit toy, and Pat readied themselves, before slapping the hand again, swinging their body weight forward. Hence, they moved forward, landing with teetering balance on a balcony whose railing had rusted away to nothing. A delighted thrill went through Pattin. 

The next section was filled with massive, unmoving, dusty machinery, and glowing red streams that resembled a more liquefied form of the red smoke. 

“Whoa.” They murmured. Jackal simply stared, unmoving. 

Pat turned their head a little, exhaling. “Hey, kid. Ya wanna wait on the balcony for me?” 

Jackal looked to Pat with large, white-pupilled eyes, and Pat could swear they saw a hint of amber-brown in them. 

They put on the bravest smile they could muster, crouching down. “Here- open up my bag.” 

Jackal slipped from their shoulder, and Pattin tried not to flinch at the sound of the zipper opening. “Inside… there’s a Catbee toy.”

“Her name is Betty.” 

Pat felt Jackal pull the Catbee out, a bit wonkily due to his large mitts. “You look after her for me, yeah..? While I go deal with all this nonsense.” 

The kid nodded, slowly, then faster, managing a small, “okay…. Deal.”

Pat nodded, pleased, slinging one of the straps off their shoulder to zip the bag back up. “I’ll be super fast. You stay safe. And don’t move- I’ll come back right here,” 

Jackal was now staring at the toy, nodding as he plopped down onto the dirty floor. 

Pat took one step away, swallowed and then turned to speed-walk off. They hit the end of the platform, jogging down the stairs quickly. It was a bit of a pointless maze- all routes ended in the same place, at a purple hand. Pat barely stopped moving, hitting it as they moved forward and up onto another platform. 

Another- across a conveniently placed hole in the floor. 

They rounded the corner; that thrill from before spread throughout them - this was fun, surprisingly. 

Another- the bridge had crumbled apart into the gushing red fluid below. 

The cement crumbled under the impact of their converses, and they gripped the railing as they almost teetered back into the liquid. 

“Fuck- that was close.” They breathed, swallowing. 

Another corner- and now there was no way across. 

Or was there… 

Pattin squinted, making out what looked like an elevated movable platform, firing at hand to reach out and grab it. 

They studied the area as it dragged over, staring at the hunk of pipe protruding from the wall. 

Hmmmmm…. 

Bring the platform to their level, and they jumped onto it, then hoisted themselves up onto the pipe, nearly slipping on the smooth surface. They then dragged the platform to the other side of the little moat, hopping down into it and bouncing off it to the other side- back onto cement. 

There was another gate, so they pulled the platform the rest of the way over and walked onto it, then hopped the fence. 

“Easyyyy,” I hummed to myself with a sharp grin, before turning the corner and being faced with that awful contraption from the PlayCare train station. 

“…”

And there were two of them. 

“I really have to stop jinxing myself…”

By the time Pat had completed not one, but two, puzzles, they were starting to consider how bad it was to dunk their head into the bubbling red liquid below. 

A door opened on the other side, and they hopped the little red river to storm through it, only to find that they were back at the start.

“IT WAS A FUCKIN LOOP?” Pattin roared, spinning hard enough to kick the large metal canister next to them. They hissed as a sharp jolt of pain went up their foot, cursing as they hopped on one foot to hold the other. 

“Pat!!!” Jackal called from above; still on the balcony. Exhaling through their teeth, they gingerly put weight on that foot again, lifting their arms. “I’m all good. I’m fine- hop down, lil man, I’ll catch ya.” 

Jackal proceeded to jump off the balcony with surprising willingness, and Pattin caught both him and Betty with relative ease. 

Now, slow, rather creepy music was playing, and significantly more lights were on than before, and when Pat carried Jackal over to the red smoke machine (now with a slightly throbbing foot), it now read ‘RESTART’ in big, bold letters. 

“Now that’s more like it,” Pattin tsked, nodding to themselves. They let Jackal push the button, watching as the screen went dark- probably to reboot. 

It beeped, once, twice, thrice, and then the PlayCo. logo appeared, then flickered to a display showing the vats—and which ones were empty—and the system proudly displayed an ‘ONLINE’ status. 

They twitched as the machine groaned, pulling Jackal’s headphones up over his ears without thinking at the loud noise. Jackal twitched, but adjusted them, patting Pat’s hand softly as thanks. The smoke drained from the far left tube, starting to be filtered into the middle one. 

Once it had settled, they let Jackal press the button again. 

It groaned and then buzzed with loud static, flickering up with the ‘NO POWER’ sign again. 

Then, all the lights suddenly cut off, the entire warehouse droning with the dying sound of static. 

Pat flinched back, harder than before, holding Jackal tight to their chest as they frantically looked around, blinking rapidly to make their eyes adjust faster. 

A chime, and then came the news Pat didn’t want to hear. 

“Oh no!” Ollie cried, voice warbled. “Someone killed the power!!” 

“… Fuck…” Pat muttered. 

Chapter Text

“I’ve sent you a new key under the statue! Use it to get into Home Sweet Home, and locate the backup generator inside!”

Typical. 

Fuckin, typical. 

Cause of course GOD forbid Pattin ever have it easy huh???? God forbid that something was simple and straightforward. 

God forbid the world allowed them actually to keep their promises, and be anything other than a screw up. 

There was not a single light on in PlayCare as they rushed through the red alert-lit halls, Jackal in their arms. He’d started to tremble. 

Typical. 

They gritted their teeth. As much as they hated to say it, they were glad they had made that game plan before, because if Pat wanted to get it done fast and get them out of there, having Jackal slow them down with his weight and tiny toy legs wouldn’t help. 

An ominous hum filled the air, one that had Pat run just a bit faster, even when their body throbbed and screamed in pain. Their eyes flickered- keeping a lookout for a certain cat, only slowing once they got close to the statue, huffing as they slowly walked down the stairs. Safety, finally. 

They jogged around the corner, back again, to the tube- because walking did not match the shot of adrenaline coursing through their veins. The machine next to the tube had a screen that glowed in the dark, displaying the percentage of power the Gas Production Zone had, as well as the locations: Home Sweet Home, Toy Store, School, PlayHouse, Offices, and Sky Dome. 

All of them were offline, except for the Toy Store, which just read ‘NO CONNECTION’. 

There was a jingle, and Pat turned their head to see the keys dangling at the end of the tube. 

They slowly exhale. 

“Alright. This is where you stay, Jackal." 

Jackal scowled, and Pat softened. “I know. I know I’m awful. But just till this is over, okay..?”

“…fine.” He grumbled after a minute. 

Pattin helped him make a small, poorly built cubby under a desk, with a strip of fabric that was once a blanket to cover him from sight. Jackal, who was still holding Betty, curled up. 

After providing Jackal with a drink of water and two packets of vending machine snacks, Pat finally got the courage to pull away and grab the key. 

It has barely been a day (or has it??? How long has Pattin been here for???) and already- the lack of weight of Jackal on their shoulder felt wrong. 

No time to focus on that, though. 

Key in hand, Pattin made their way to Home Sweet Home. 

Thank god CatNap didn’t want to make this quick- or he was equally as stupid as Pat- though, that was unlikely- because it took what felt like an agonising forever to find the fuckin building in the dark- everything looked the same here when all the colours are muddled with shadows. 

Eventually, they found it, and their earlier statement was corrected. 

All the lights were off except the ones in Home Sweet Home. 

Well, that’s not terrifying. 

Jogging up the steps, they took one last glance around before slotting the key in. 

It rattled.

Clicked. 

And the doors pushed open with a low creak with barely a touch. 

It was a bit like Poppy’s room, the patterned wallpaper, off-the-wall lanterns, wooden floor boards that creaked underfoot, even with Pattin’s light weight and usually sneaky creeping. Immediately in front of them were stairs- and a well. The generator was probably in some spooky basement, right?

They reached the hall at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the dust-stained photos of children that hung on the wall. Small toys; plushy, non-living toys were on chairs and benches, covered in a thin layer of dust as well. On the floor, to the left, was a Catbee and a Boogie Bot. The Catbee was split at the head, and the boogie bot… didn’t even have a head. 

Pat was so busy staring at the two tiny little corpses that they didn’t focus on the door in front of them; opening it….. and then walking straight into a wall of red smoke. 

FUCK. 

“FUCK!” Pat unwisely yelled, lurching backwards to get out of the room as fast as possible. 

They landed in a heap on their ass, exhaling sharply from the force. 

They stared at the twirling wall of smoke, which started to leak into the room with them, heavily breathing. 

It wasn’t toxic. They were… 80% sure of that. 

They pursed their lips, swallowing. Maybe if they held their breath? How far did it even go??? 

Not like I have a choice. 

Sucking in a large breath, Pat pulled themselves from the floor and took off running into the smoke. It was thick, distorting their vision. They squinted against the red smog into the distance, shoes thunking loudly as they ran forward.

And then the ground suddenly gave way under them. 

They were sent crashing, flailing forward and unable to brace themselves. Their good shoulder hit the floor, and Pat inhaled sharply with a shout, the taste of poppies in their mouth. They rolled, sharp points digging into their sides and chest- stairs. 

Landing finally at the bottom, thankfully out of the red smoke, Pattin sobbed, their entire body protesting, their burns aching and throbbing- Pat wouldn’t be surprised if they split their already tender skin doing that.  

They really. Really. Had to stop falling over. 

It took them a while to peel themselves off the floor, mostly due to the fact that they were shaking from the pain, but despite the fall, the more deeply they breathed, the more the aching dulled to a slow throb. 

Eventually, they made it to their feet, still hiccuping as they leaned against the wall for support. 

They slowly limped down the halls, eyes barely focusing through the tears that refused to stop running, no matter how much they scrubbed at their face. They reached the end of the hallway, where a small radio sat on a table, accompanied by a photo and a few books. 

It crackled eerily, filling the hall with static. 

Pattin looked left. And then right. 

They both looked the same. 

They went left. 

As they approached the next end of the hall, another radio-almost the same one-was playing. 

“Tragic news this morning. As of 9:45 AM, local authorities report that the body of a young boy has been found on the estate of the late Elliot Ludwig, an esteemed toy maker and originator of the Playtime Company.” 

Pat covered their mouth in silent horror. 

What..? 

“At this time, an identity for the child awaits official confirmation. Found in an upstairs bedroom in a large duffle bag, officers on-scene report that the remains appeared to have been disturbed.”

“Organs as well as key bones from the skeletal structure were reported missing from the body. It's unknown at this time whether this extraction was, in fact, the cause of death."

Who would do that??? 

Why???

Elliot wouldn’t- right??? 

There were claw marks on the floor. Consistent, constant tearing through the wooden planks and wallpaper. The lights flickered. They almost seemed dimmer. Pat reached the next end of the hall- it was a maze that never seemed to end. They felt sick, wrong, dizzy. Nothing felt right, and everything felt wrong. 

The light on the same, exact same, little desk was out at this one. 

“Following recent events, Playtime Co. was asked for any comment regarding the discovery. This is what they had to say, quote:”

“'It's sickening. Elliot Ludwig was a great man, and those who knew him understood that he was not capable of violence, let alone what others now claim. He had a deep love in his heart for children like this one, making the actions of whoever planted this body all the more sick. We look forward to clearing his good name, both in the public eye and in the eyes of the law.'” 

“STAY TUNED FOR MORE.”

Pat stood in the dark, balance teetering as they stared at the radio. 

Once upon a time, they would have rioted alongside those people, coming to the aid of the man they idolised. 

They turned. 

And they stumbled down a different hallway. 

They could barely tell from how they felt like gravity was pulling at their skin, their soul, but they swore no doors were lining the hall anymore. 

Was any of this actually real? 

The next dead end was the radio, which was playing static; Pat smacked it, sending it flying off the table and bouncing down the hallway. They stomped on it until the cackling static stopped. 

Their phone chimed on their side, as Pat reached for it with trembling fingers. 

“Ollie..?”

“YOU NEED TO RUN.” 

Pat looked up, alarmed, and at the end of the hallway, glaring them down with blank, hollow eyes, was CatNap. 

Pattin bolted. 

Rushing down the opposite hall, they tore past another radio. 

“Despite Playtime's proclamation of Ludwig's innocence, many believe his reclusive and mysterious nature displayed over the previous decades lends suspicion to this claim.”

Their breathing was shallow, and they squeezed their eyes shut as they ran. 

“When questioned, Ludwig's neighbours indicated that he would often return to his home in strange hours of the night, and depart again before sunrise.”

“Some believed he was sick, others, that-”

“̶̢̛̳̥͗̂̉̆͂̓̒̓͆̅̓̆͑̈́͜D̷̨̙͇̗̮̺̞̙̋̏͊͊͂͛̈̌̉̉͂̉̕̚O̶̪̪̳͙͋͗̎͘͜N̵̨̰͉̰͔̎͝͝'̸̨̨̛̠̺̦̳̥̬̩̰̗̪͙̃͌̎́́͂̀̍T̸̢͉̭͍͕̰̭̩̝͔̟͓̻̓̋̆̓͂̽̃͐͆͛̓͘͘͝ͅ ̴̧̧̧͙̪͙͕̮̦̲̯͍̱̼̱͂̃̕M̴̧̨̙̬͎͍̲̰̉͝Ö̴̧̻̗̤̬̜̼̼̩̫̥̩̘̼͛͂͠V̷̟́̄̂̈̄̆E̶̢̯̫͔̥͒́͂.̸̨̧̮̦͔͙̫̪̰͈͇̣̽͛̉̏̽̀͜ ̸̧̝̱̟̞͚̝̤̘͙̲̙̃̃͗̈̾͜͠Ḍ̶̝̍͋͗̾̿͛̈̓̀̀͐̈͋̚͝Ò̵̧̝̱͎̮̺͚́̀͊̏̔́͠N̶̢̛̲͎̰̙͔̞̞̼̝̥̣̫̱̝͒͋̊̓̏̇̓̑̾̕͝'̴͈̘̗͎̳̤͖̠̯̹͗͜͝Ţ̸̪͕̀̔̈́̈͠ ̵̢̧̨̧̜̦̗̰̠̫̯̮͔̻̦́̿̔̈͊͘M̵̡̧̡̙̻͉͎͕͊̉̎͗̏̊͑̃̇̃͋͝Ǫ̶̛͚͙̭̗͖̜̱͍̠͎̹̯͓̱̅̽̑́́͗̌̓͛̔̕̕͜V̴̜͎͛̾́̌̒̾͗̿̐̒̈́̕͝E̷͇͇̣̗͉͗̈́̎͠͝ ̷̨̤̬͇̺͚͙̦̮̹̣̈́̊̆̀́̊͘͝͝A̸̡̟̦̗͕̘̎̈́͠N̸̢̧̠̠̦̲̜͉͇͍̘̙͉͔͕̔͆͑̓͛́̋̈́̿́̎̈́͆͘̕ͅ ̷̟̗͖̞̙̺͔̖̰̦̼͗͑͋̌̓̈́̈́̍̍͂͝͝͝Ȉ̶̢̩̮͎̳͇̯̩̳͈͍͙̼̩̬́N̵̩͎̝͗͑̓̐͌̅̏͒̚͝C̴̨̻͙̠̱̘̫̑̀́̍̀͒̊̋͠Ḣ̵̛̛̭̘̮͋̈́͗̀̏̾͆̚͠͝͠͝͝.̶̢̭̣̣̹͙̩̦̯͕̳̮̓̂̎͜͜”̸̧̢̡̬̞͇̖̈̑̈́̈́̃͐̄̾̀̀̽͝

They crashed into a wall at the deafening roar, clutching their ears. 

“Playtime Co., it seems, intends to keep Elliot's name within its brand regardless. What is sure to be a long legal battle will follow."

How many “legal battles” had PlayCo. had???? 

How many sins were they covering up?????

Something creaked behind them, and they spooked into rushing off again. The next end had the lights flickering, casting veins of green and black across the wall. The radio blared crackling stereo music, interrupted consistently by static, making it sound like a ghost was wailing. 

Everything was spinning. 

The ground felt unstable. 

But they just kept running. 

“5991/8/8”

“.won ereh eb ot thgir on evah uoY .ytrap eht dessim uoy gniteem eht dessim uoy ,tneve eht dessim uoY ?ereh uoy t'nerew yhW .ereh eb ot desoppus erew uoY”

The eerier, distorted crackling mixed with gibberish filled the air, starting Pattin terribly as they skidded and nearly crashed while running around a corner. 

“.5991/8/8”

“?uoy erew ,ereht t’nerew uoy ,tey dnA .oga sraey dediced saw etaf ruoY”

The flem and slick in their mouth burnt at the back of their throat, choking on a pathetic sob. 

“.selbaf dna seil htiw desruc esoht gnilliF .ekat ot sruoy ton si tahw gnikaT .gniddorp ,gnikop ,gnigallip ,ereh ni emoc uoY”

It felt like they were running in circles; how many times had they seen the ghastly claw marks clawed into the floor; “IT HAUNTS YOU.” 

This felt like a nightmare they could never escape. 

Was anything even real, now? Or was this all in their head? 

“.ereh gnoleb ton od uoY”

“???uoy era ohW”

They slowed on what felt like the third lap of the same hall, staggering around the corner to find that instead of the same turn, an entire hallway had appeared. 

They made a hoarse cry of relief, stumbling down it. 

They took the next left they could find, barely standing on their trembling legs. The halls were considerably worse here. The wall’s wallpaper was clawed away to reveal the inner insulation, the lights barely on, if at all; claw marks raked everything. 

They hit another T junction. 

“Get up,”

The radio warbled, sitting on the nightstand.

“Get up.” 

Pat stared at it, chest heaving from all the running. 

“Get up.”

They turned. 

And they kept walking. 

They walked past a candy cat hung by a noose, and there was probably more- but Pat couldn’t make it out in the darkness. 

The air filled with crackling static again, as they moved towards whatever form of light flickered at the end of the halls in this cruel maze that never ended. 

One hall. 

To a set of dark, double doors. Finally. 

They leaned against the wall, one hand trailing it as they made their way to the door, which opened slowly for them before they even touched it. 

They barely questioned it now. 

The room…. Didn’t look like a place for children. It had grey walls. Panelled ceiling, some of which were missing, leaving massive tubes hanging into the room, rickety, sheetless beds that were just a dirty mattress and a single, musty pillow. 

A TV sat on a bookshelf, beside a familiar cardboard cutout of Huggy. On a chalkboard, fixed to the wall and above a table with cabinets, scrawled in jagged capital letters was “HAPPY AND FUN WHY WAS IT DONE”. 

They spotted a red VSH tape on one of the beds and looked around timidly, before collecting it. Despite the fact that it felt unwise to be fuckin around with a TV…. They felt a pull towards the tape player. 

And with how much everything hurt, and everything felt muddled… they inserted it. 

“Greetings, Employees, and welcome to your first day here in Playtime!”

Pat blinked, sniffling weakly. It was the welcome tape. The one they played when you started. They wanted to sit, to maybe even reminisce about what they had lost, to remember PlayCo. as it was, before the radio silence, but their legs were locked, leaving them stuck standing. 

“We're certain that in the days to come you'll find your new family here every bit as loving and supportive as your own.”

“Feel free to wander the halls!”

“Sit in the mess for lunch. Or watch our children play and learn to their little hearts' content.”

“Join the Innovationists, where the bounds of science are continuously pushed.”

The bounds of science are constantly pushed. At least Pat now knew what that meant. 

“Or join the Counsellors of Playcare, whose diligence and care for our children will help shape a brighter future, just you see.”

They frowned, startled, and a sudden sense of wrong went through them. 

“Now, every one of you has your part in that future, so should you come back tomorrow feeling unhappy for where you are, or what you've done... worry not, for your supervisor is here and happy to listen!”

Pat tried to pull back; the wrongness growing, festering like an open wound within them, but their legs were still locked in place. 

“And... should you come back... years later... your curiosity finally getting the better of you.”

The cute little photo of Huggy suddenly flickered and started to fade into the darkness of the tape. 

“May you descend into the dark and the dust, finding all that awaits you are incomprehensible horrors... each hungry for your return, each eager that they might find you.”

Something started to replace the little Huggy photo — something similar, but horrifying: a gaping grin of needle-like teeth and two black, soulless eyes. 

“Perhaps they'd smile at you from a shadow, their smiling mouths full of teeth and meat and plastic, watching and waiting patiently for their turn at a warm welcome.”

They were shaking, trembling; their eyes unable to move from the flickering grin slowly unhinging on the screen in front of them, growing brighter and brighter, as if it were getting closer to the screen—closer to Pattin. 

“Or perhaps they won't allow you such time to figure your place in the world you'd left.”

“A world that's theirs now.”

“̴O̸h̵…̶.̸ ̸W̶e̷l̵c̷o̷m̵e̸ ̸h̶o̴m̸e̵,̵ ̸R̶e̶d̷ ̴A̵n̴g̸e̴l̶.̷”̴

It was the blaring of sirens that scared Pat into moving. Just as suddenly, the screen warped, and the image of the nightmarish Huggy peeled itself from the screen, an elongated hand reaching for them; a grating scream emanated from it as its maw unfurled, arching upwards towards the ceiling. 

They turned their heel and ran, tears of terror welling up in their eyes as they heard the thumping of it escaping the TV. 

Racing down the hall, they were about to reach the end of the hall when their feet caught on something, sending them crashing to the floor. 

They turned, seeing ghastly black figures reaching through the floor, their hands stained with slick, red blood. 

“̷Y̷O̶U̸ ̴B̸R̵A̷T̶,̴”̵  wailed one, her voice shrill and broken, hoarse like she’d been yelling too much. Blood bubbled from her eyes, sharp nails digging into their legs, dragging them into the floor like it was quicksand. 

“̷̩͘C̶̲͐A̷̰͒N̸̦̓T̵̙̐ ̶͎̆Ÿ̴̭́Õ̴͕Ư̸̳ ̷̪͝Ď̵̢O̶͉̓ ̸̛̹A̷͚̕N̵͎̕Y̴͈̌T̴̝͐Ĥ̷͎Ì̴̦N̴̞̕G̶̝̀ ̸̛̤R̷̢̈́I̶̙̚G̵̲̓H̶̖͘T̵͌ͅ?̶̈́ͅ!̷͈̋?̵̫͠”̴̨͠

Behind, the Huggy had bent through the door and was now running at them, its head brushing the roof as it wailed with that gaping maw. 

Something grabbed Pattin by the hair, dragging their face down. A man, a shattered bear bottle lodged in his right eye, blood gushing from his mouth and breathing reeking of beer, bared his chipped, rotting teeth, another hand coming to hold them by the throat. 

“̵̤̿̄L̵͎̑O̸̬̙̎O̵͍̔̾K̶̥͖̉͛ ̷͙̇À̵̢Ṫ̴̻͉̾ ̷̞̥͒M̴͎̠͆͊Ẹ̶̆͜ ̸̮̗͌W̴̤͇̒̌H̸̳͈̓̊E̴͉͑͝N̶͍̣͘͝ ̴̺͐I̷͈͛̎ ̶̢͓̐S̴̻̝͐P̷̡̓̑E̵̘̗͛̀A̴̡̻̓K̶̠̅.̴̢̋͜”̸͈̿

The thumping was getting closer. 

“̴̤͔͋͝Ḻ̷̺͎͗̌̽Ö̴͈̩̰́̆͛O̶͍̺͒Ḱ̵͇͙͜͝ ̴̠̀̆A̴̺͑ͅT̸̳͇͐̔ ̴̜̑M̴̭̹̏̈́Ė̸͉͛.̶̩͔͛”̴͉̳̥̂̇͋

Closer.

“̶̢̧̡̛̹̼̦̮̽̎͆͐͂̄ͅŶ̸̬̖̒́̄̒͒͝Ō̶̹͔͈̹̩̫̯͉̄̍̊̔̐̾̃͌̎́̎͘͝͠Ụ̵̱̠͉̝͔̰̜̫͕̗̖́̊͆̄̈́͊͝ͅ ̵̡͈͍̱̣͎͍̜̳͉͎̤̼̳̓͂̆̈́̽̈́́̐̓͋W̸̧̨̛̛̛͈̼̼̰̞̪̗̠̮͎͖̱͚̼̟̭̦͐̆͗͛̊͂̊̊̎͋́̐̔̂̚͝Ị̶͇̂͋̄Ĺ̵̢̨̤͔̫̖̲͎͎̰̘̤̮͚͇͙͕͖̱̟̘̤̗̥̍͛̀̀̓L̸͙̞̠͙̗̙̿̒̄̄̆̉̄̈̓͂̉ ̵̙̑̂̿͐Ȓ̷̤̟̻͉̰̪̆͑͒̾̏͛̄͛̂͒̓̓̃͑͆͌̕͘̚Ę̴͎͇̱̬͈̠̘̋̎̍̏̈͝Š̴̡̼͉̖̺̦̖͉͇̤̠̟̱̥͔̬̗̤̺͗́͜͝P̴̢̼͖̪̙͓̗̳̭̯̺̪̩͎͕̬̔͝ͅE̶̛̟̯̱͎̙̤̹̱̓̅͆̋́̏͊͗̈́͑͒̽̊͗͛̔̽̕͘͝C̴̱̩̟̫̤̼̰͔͉̆̔̽͒̈́̐̄̆̎T̵͚̱̟͕̮͇͖̠̻̗͉̖̼͕̺̠̘̳͔̰̥̈́̈́̐́ ̸̬̐̀̈͌̇́͐͑̊͊́̂̎̄̊̐̕̚͠͝M̷͖̮̮̞̳̙͋̃͌̔Ḙ̸̡̛̳̗̤̘͉̻̖̲̣̞͎̝͉̪͔͙̺̰̝̺̒͛̈̈́̏̈́́̆͂̓̍̿̐̆́̏̀̋̅̒̚ͅͅ.̴̢̥̑͑́̄̉͐̈͊̎͌̉̐͝”̷̫̣̹̭̳͓̤̈́̇̄͒̀̈͒̐̓͗̔̑͊̾̈͗̓͜͜͠ ̶̦̼̞͉͖̜͎̟̯̦̙̥͒̂͌̋

Something screamed- Pat didn’t know which monster it was- Huggy or the bloody black creatures, but then blue furry arms suddenly coiled around them, ripping them from their parents. 

They stared up into the blank black eyes of the Huggy, as it unhinged its jaw, and swallowed Pattin whole. 

Chapter Text

Pattin woke up screaming. 

Woke up clawing at the air, scrambling until their back slammed into a wall.

Woke up crying so hard that they ended up doubling over and throwing up over the floor, painting the red-stained floor boards with something chunky in bile and slick that burned their throat. Woke up clawing at their neck, their chest, and their face, because they couldn’t breathe. 

They slumped over next to their mess, hiccuping and sobbing, eyes wide and flickering, chest aching with how shaky and rushed their breathing was. 

They curled up, knees tucked to their chest, crying until their throat was raw and they were out of tears; tapping the beat to their breathing exercise Charlie had taught them the first time they ever had an attack in front of him.  

It took a long while for them to calm down. 

They…. They were still in the room. Looking behind them, through the door, Pattin could see the hall they had originally entered—they had barely reached the end of the room, which had been filled with red smoke. 

Meaning….

The stairs. The endless halls. The radios- the tape, the Huggy, their parents. 

It was all fake—a delusion. 

A nightmare. 

“It wasn’t real,” Pat whispered, curling up tighter. “It wasn’t real, none of it was.” 

Still, their body shook. 

They ran through their breathing exercise once, twice, three more times before slowly unfolding from their tightly curled up state. Sniffing, they took a little break, shrugging off their grab pack and slumping against the wall, their hands trembling as they reached into their bag. 

Their throat was too dry for smoking, no matter how much their body craved control, instead trying to hold their bottle and not spill it everywhere with their shaking hands as they took a few small sips- one to rinse out their mouth from the taste of bile, and then two more for actual water. 

Then they fished out a random packet from their container, ripping it open and slowly eating. It was popcorn- and they ate one piece at a time to not risk the wrath of their already shaken system, munching slowly as they stared at nothing in particular. 

It took even longer to realise their body didn’t hurt as much as they expected it to, but that made sense if them falling down the stairs had been all in their head. They didn’t even have any bruises from it all, except on their knees —probably from collapsing from inhaling the red smoke. 

Okay. Time to start living. I still haven’t found the generator. 

With a heavy sigh, they slowly peeled themselves from the floor, slinging their grab pack back on as they made their way to the door on the other side of the room, stepping over several decapitated toys and gently nudging the door open. 

It was gloomily dark - nothing like the hallucinated halls from before, with claw marks raking the floor and walls, doors boarded up with planks of wood, the floor blood-soaked, items knocked over, and toys littering the place. 

Pat swallowed thickly, silently thanking the flashlight built into the new grabpack. Hopefully, it won’t run out anytime soon. 

A massive mobile hung from the ceiling- four clouds and a massive sphere containing a moon. There were several large blocks around- building blocks, if building blocks were made for giants. There were also three cardboard cutouts: one of Mommy Long Legs, one of Baby Long Legs, and one of Daddy Long Legs. 

Something ached in them. How long had it been since they last saw Marie? Was she okay? Was she worried about them? About Jackal???

Large, glowing coils of electric wires hung from the walls and snaked around the room, and in the centre, the floor had caved away into a massive sink pit leading to the rooms below. 

They looked around, pursing their lips. 

To be frank. They weren’t sure what was expected of them here. 

Walking up to the sinkhole, something red and yellow caught their gaze. They tilted their heads curiously, moving around the hole, and spotted what appeared to be a mask. “Oh!!!” 

Using their grab hand, they managed to snatch it up and bring it close to them, grabbing it with their hands and blowing off the insane amount of dust and wood sawdust, which resulted in a coughing fit. 

A gas mask. It was a stupid-looking thing; colours that were once bright red, yellow and blue, with blacked-out eye holes and ventilators. But hey. It might just save them from clocking out again due to the red smoke- and Pat would rather avoid that at all costs. 

Strapping it to their head, they looked around. Two doors, all of which obviously were locked, thanks to the half-sun LED above them—a single locked metal reinforced door, with a full sun on it. Through the metal bars, Pattin could see what looked like the generator. And below, a black pit of cement floors and pipes. 

Tracing the wires with their eyes, they came to a simple conclusion: power was pulled from either side of this hall —the rooms with the two little LED suns. They probably have to go turn on the power on either side to result in enough power to open the generator door. 

And from the looks of things…. The only way was down. 

Welp. Into the unknown. Again. 

Hopping down into the pit, they were faced with one of the go-karts that they’d seen the staff let the orphans play with —but only rarely, due to how fast the things could move —and then leaking through the boxes blocking the way, red smoke. 

Strapping on their mask- purely for safety, they bared their teeth in a smug grin. Pulling back on the drawstring with their hands, they let the toy car go, watching it crash through the boxes and down the hall. They whooped loudly, bouncing up and down on the spot. They ran down the hall, wincing slightly at the car, which was now on fire, lodged into a collapsed roof. But the smoke from the fire wasn’t gathering around them, and they looked up, realising there was a hole- and then down, noticing a jump pad. 

Easy. 

They bounced up into what looked like a Laundry room. Rows of washing machines on each side of the walls- lamps, boxes of supplies, chemical products- and a massive hole in the wall. 

I shrugged, snorting. Why the fuck not? 

Clambering through the hole and into the next room, they made their way to a hall blocked by stacks of boxes. Which was cute…. But… 

Pattin simply hopped over the boxes. 

The next room also had a massive hole in the wall, and looked like someone mixed “house office” and “hurricane” together. Tables knocked over, paper everywhere, and as Pattin stepped through the next hole, they had to duck not to be hit in the head by a Bron and Boogie bot that were both hanging by their necks from the ceiling. They peered in; the room was a child’s bedroom. They peered back out, spying another door through a fallen shelf. 

Hmmmm… 

They returned to the hall, ducking under a knocked-over shelving unit. Using a blue hand to open the office door, they ended up in a hallway, which one way led to a barricaded dead end, and the other to a small room containing a TV, bookshelves, cabinets, two chairs, and a fake window that showed a clear blue sky. 

The VSH was sitting on one of the two chairs, which Pattin flopped in after a good look around, and inserted it. 

The tape crackled, and the frame of a bed flickered to life on the black screen. Then a firm, low male voice came from the TV. 

“Subject is stable, designated #1322. Clear neural abnormalities were detected in his recent check-up. Though highly irregular, we've pulled him from the Home Sweet Home just before lights out to perform-”

“What are you doing with my friend?”

Pat sat up, eyes wide. The voice of a small child- a boy, probably. 

“I-! What are you doing out of bed? How did you get in here?”

“Is Kevin sick? Why did you take him away?”

My heart throbbed for the poor kid- like, I was aware of what was happening- the experiments, the children, the testing- but to hear the live consequences of it? To know that this child was confused about where their friend was, and Pat knew he was probably never going to see them again? 

“I-I... Yes... Kevin is very sick. Very, very sick. But we want to make him better. But he can only get better if we take him to where we can provide proper care and give him proper rest.”

“Will... D-Do you really think he will be okay?”

Pat snarled at the TV, gripping their torn jeans. 

“I should think so. We're good at what we do, son. We paid attention in school, learned, and got our proper rest when we needed it. Just like you need it now, I should think. Come now, let's get you on back to bed.”

“O-Okay.”

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, Joseph. And I promise you, your friend will be alright. When you see him again, he'll have never been better.”

The tape clicked off, the VSH sliding out of the player. Pat glared at the blank screen before exhaling and grabbing the tape, adding it to their evidence pocket. They’ll need to ensure they gathered any and all information they could while they were here, including anything as evidence. 

For what? They didn’t know. 

There was no other way out, or no alternative routes, so they made their way back into the office, through the hole in the wall and to the bedroom, slowly opening the bedroom door. It made a deafening ka-clunk, which made Pat wince, peering out. The right had massive boxes and cabinets blocking the hall, which, thank goodness, as none other than Catnap himself strolled down the hall, coming from where Pat had been before, probably hearing the VSH go off. 

They ducked behind the boxes, frantically smothering the light of their touch as the massive purple cat breathed loudly overhead, before continuing to lumber down the halls. 

Pat hadn’t realised until now just how big he was - his hunched back almost hit the ceiling.

They quietly looked to the left; there was a door in front of them, poorly boarded up, the next one was chained shut, and then the end of the hallway, which sported steel bars. 

Pat silently wondered if this was meant to be an orphanage or a prison. 

On the wall next to them was a poster about the cat in question —a rather creepy cartoon of Catnap curled above the bed frame of a sleeping Huggy, staring at them with an unhinged grin. The font read: “GET SOME REST!” 

“No. Thank you.” Pat hissed back, ducking under the wooden boards of the door next to them. 

Another bedroom, another massive hole in the wall. 

Pat barely glanced at it. 

Another bedroom, a Bunzo bunny strung up by its neck. 

Pat sneakily marched up to the door and slowly opened it. They peeked out, checking left and then right for any sign of the purple feline, before glancing into the room immediately across from them, spotting a battery port. Their eyes lit up. Bingo!! 

They zipped across into the next room- praying that maybe the door frames were too small for CatNap- but with all the holes in the walls…. And the thought that he might have made those holes…. 

Pat shuddered. 

The second they made it into the room, they realised there were two battery ports. And, of course, only one battery. 

The urge to swear was a tough one to wrangle back. 

Find one more battery. Should be easy, right? 

They peeked out of the hall again before going right. There was a hole in the ceiling at the end of the hall, and Pat spotted a beam they could use to pull themselves up with. 

They rose… into a nursery. 

They hung there for a bit, just... praying to themselves silently that surely, hopefully, they weren’t experimenting on babies. 

Surely. 

The room.. was in ruin. Cribs knocked over, scratched and clawed at. The wallpaper was peeling, and dead toys littered the place like it was a graveyard. Pattin took a step forward and stood on a beheaded Huggy, frantically staggering back. “Sorry-” I whispered hoarsely. “Sorry. Sorry,” 

There were photos of kids on the wall, babies, children and adolescents. 

They silently hoped those were kids who got adopted. Moving to the closest open door, they were met with bunk beds. 

Again, some of them were knocked over, broken, or completely ruined. In the centre of the room, there was what looked like a plush Bobby Bearhug statue- that had fallen on its stomach, ripping off one of its legs and tearing along its back. 

But. It also had a port in its back, which held a battery. Pat beamed, rushing over to scoop up the battery, patting Bobby on the head. “Sorry, girl. I need this.” 

They rushed back the way they came, through the nursery, leapt down the hole and to the power room, inserting the battery. 

The machine made a horrific, loud roaster call, as a door in the hallway shuddered open. Pat sprinted out of the room and towards it, not wanting to wait around for CatNap to arrive. 

A stairwell, which they took three at a time, only half mindful to be as fast but as quiet as they could be.

Another hall, another room filled with bunkbeds. Pat couldn’t tell if this was the same one as before, or if it was connected to it, or what. In front of them, however, was another one of those go-karts. 

So much for being quiet. 

Reaching for the pull on the cart, they noticed a bed flipped over beside them, and scrawled on the mattress in big bloody letters was “THE HOUR OF JOY”. Pat silently frowned at it before pulling the string back on the cart and releasing it. The cart screamed to life, lunging up a little ramp, over a hole Pat had not seen, and smashed into the closed door on the opposite side. 

If only impending doom shaped like a raisin cat wasn’t behind them, they would have enjoyed the destruction the go-kart had caused. 

Pity. 

They made it over to the door to find that they were on a balcony at head level of the mobile that belonged to the room they had originally started in. 

Walking around the balcony, they found another room, almost like a lounge room of sorts. Couches with large pillows of Huggy’s, Kissy’s and CraftyCorn’s faces, a large communal table, seating spots, book shelves, and in the back, another TV. They looked around solemnly, imagining the lives that used to play here. 

They located the next VSH tape in a cupboard, wandering over to the TV and snagging a chair on the way. 

It was hard to make out the image in this tape - it looked like a child, maybe - and they jolted at the sheer amount of noise this one made, the sounds of children. In this place now, so silent and dead, forgotten to the world, it was almost uncanny to hear it. 

“Ah, and here they all are.”

Pat frowned at this new voice- another one they didn’t know. 

“Well, of course, they'd never miss this!”

An older woman. Probably one of the counsellors, maybe.

And then…. The voices of children. 

“Who is it, Ms Brooks? Who's going away?”

“Tell us! Tell us!”

Immediately, Pat’s heart was crushed. 

Who’s going away. 

Not ‘who’s getting adopted?’ Or ‘who’s going home?’ 

Who’s going away. 

The counsellor started to shush all the children until they were all quiet. 

“This week, Dr White here has selected our very own Samuel Lee!”

An uproar of cheers and delight echoed on the TV, and Pat felt a wave of nausea. 

“Now, before he goes, let's all give Sam one last goodbye, shall we? With me. 1... 2... 3!”

“Goodbye, Sam!”

The VHS faded into cheers and clapping, before cutting off. 

They…. They made it a gift. 

Being picked, for the experiments- it had to be, it had to be, it was a DOCTOR picking them- 

Pat took a slow, shaky breath and gently took the tape, storing it next to the one they had found downstairs. 

There was a green power grid on the wall, and then another on the roof above the door - it was fairly easy to put two and two together. 

The door groaned as it pulled up, and Pat trailed inside… to more bunk beds. 

It made them wonder really- why were some kids kept in rooms like these, crammed in with the rest of the children, sharing bunk beds- and others got their own room???? 

Were they that desperate for test subjects..? 

Behind them, the energy on the door buzzed, signalling times up, and it slammed shut behind them. 

They found several charges around the place, but the majority of the walls were in ruins… so… 

I just climbed the bed frames and hopped through the hole into the next room. It was here that I needed a charge, so I turned, fired the hand to steal the charge from one of the grids — silently thanking the longer grabbing reach of the hands now — and smacked into the unpowered grid. A door to the left opened, and I threw myself from my spot on the crumbled wall and sprinted, mostly because the image of the crushed stick man from the green hand safety instructions was still playing in my head. 

I managed to zip inside before the door slammed shut behind me. 

Another hall. 

“What is it with this place and halls???” I grumbled, rolling my eyes in silent annoyance. 

Pat didn’t get far before they noticed something glowing in the corner of their eyes, and Pat turned their head to face it. Well. A face. 

They jolted out of their skin, biting their lip hard enough that blood swelled up a bit to muffle their scream. 

It was just. A statue. They slowly let out a breath, approaching the standing Bobby Bearhug statue. This one probably had a battery in it, too, right? 

They strolled up to it, starting to move around it, but spooked again when the thing started to rotate. 

“What…?” 

They walked around it, faster, with it only rotating to face them. “UGH!!!” 

It would be more terrifying if it weren’t just plain ANNOYING. 

“FINE.” Pat scoffed, storming off the way they came. They went further down the hall, finding another room connected to the communal bedroom, and sneaked around to fire the grab pack hand and yank the battery from its back. The lights flickered off, and Pat childishly stuck their tongue out at it. 

Some quick problem-solving- if you don’t mind, even though Pat was terrible at it. They found another battery. This was a good thing. If they had changed up the power on this side… but they needed a full sun on both the doors for the room for the generator to open….. 

That means Pat probably has two more batteries — one now that they have this one — to locate a battery port on the other side of Home Sweet Home. They could feel themselves withering at the thought. 

How on earth were they going to even get over there…. Their eyes drifted before spying a vent. ‘COMING BACK WAS A MISTAKE’ was scrawled above it. 

No. 

No. 

Nope nope nope nope nope. 

I am done with vents. 

….

……

… 

The vent creaked as Pat grumpily pulled it open. 

“I’m so sick of this fuckin shit.”

One more battery. 

Just one. 

And then they could leave this nightmare of a place. 

The vents were small and stuffy. To be fair, they had no idea where this went. But on the other hand. Catnap couldn’t fit even his skinny twig ass in here.

So was it a blessing or a curse? Hard to say. 

They occasionally peered through vents, checking them to see where they were, even though everything looked the same. Eventually, they hit a dead end; only one way out. 

Let’s pray it’s the right one. 

They hopped out directly in front of a door, and God was looking down on their dirty little soul, because they were right outside the mobile room again, but behind the doors where they needed to be. 

“Yesssss,” Pat hissed, fist bumping to themselves gleefully. 

The power cable was looped along the wall from the door- so Pat followed it, easily locating the room with the two battery ports. One of the batteries went in—one more to find. 

There was another power grid on the wall, and they remembered seeing an uncharged one on the way down the hall- so smacking it and charging up their hand, they made their way to it. They turned, smacking the unchanged grid. The door to the stairs opened, and they spied another powered grid up the stairs, and, realising maybe they were missing something, they smacked the charge and started to look around, barely catching the glint of wires down the hall. 

They rushed towards it as the electricity started to spark, finding two grids- striking one with their green hand, the grid glowing a bright green. Running back to the original grid, they recharged their hand with that one, running back to the door to charge the second grid as well.  

The door slid open, and Pat barely took a step in before something purple descended onto them. They screamed, jolting back and nearly slamming into the door. 

It was just a CatNap toy. Almost ironic. A CatNap toy that was…. 

Cowering..? 

The little thing was curled up, mitts pressed over its face as it hung by its tail. It was shaking. 

They were shaking. 

There was the sound of tearing fabric, and Pat lunged, catching the lil guy before they hit the floor. “Whoa, little one, that was quite the tumble, huh?” They uttered without a thought, righting the little plush up the right way. The state they were in…. Was… awful… splitting seams, tears and cuts, bloody stuffing and some… other.. darker… items pressing through the tears in their fabric. 

“Oh, you poor thing…” Pat couldn’t help but murmur, looking around before tucking the lil Naps to their chest, sliding down the wall in a corner, already shrugging off their bag. “You must be in so much pain…” They paused, “I mean, I can only imagine..” 

The little naps looked up at them with large, white, ringed eyes, seeming startled about all of this. They managed a teeny hiss, but Pattin ruffled their head with a soft smile like they were just a wayward stray kitten. “Easy, spitfire. I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

They brought out a wrapped, crumbled cookie from their box of snacks, ripping it free from its wrapping and offering it to the kid as they pulled out their sewing kit. The kid dug in as if it were a five-star meal, barely hesitating to wolf it down. How, with that mouth, Pat couldn’t tell you due to the angle, as they focused on reinforcing and mending all the tears in the kid. 

Along their back, along the back of their head- their left ear, their left back leg, the end of their tail, which had torn off, the right side of their head- they would DEFINITELY need patchworking- but for now, here? This will have to do. 

By the time they were done with the cookie, Pattin was as well, beaming at their work. “There we are. It’s not perfect, but it will hold!” 

“Merp?” Asked little naps. 

“Merp indeed," Pattin said seriously, nodding. “You a little guy, or a little girl, buddy?” Pat asked, lifting each of their hands in sync with the question. 

Little naps bumped into their right hand —the one for the girl. “A little lady, huh? Pleasure to meet you, Princess,” they mused, earning what they guessed was the toy equivalent of preening. Gently shifting upright, they carried the little princess naps under one arm, resulting in a frankly adorable little purr, as they focused on the second important part of the room: another go-kart. 

“Watch this, sweetie,” Pat said with a grin, pulling back the string to the cart and releasing it, watching it tear down the hallway and crash into the boxes, tearing straight through and into a room. Little naps wiggled into their arms, squeaking and hissing and squirming, tail lashing wonkily back and forth. 

Pat laughed. “Cool, right?” The little kitten bobbed her head aggressively as they made their way down the hall. They turned right, finding multiple empty rooms, and multiple locked ones, before ending up at one again, filled with red smoke. They swallowed before pulling at the collar of their shirt. “Here, girl. Hop in here, and try to hold your breath, okay? I’ll be as fast as I can.” 

Lil naps leapt into their shirt, and they pulled down the mask, peering into the room. Another vent. They took a long, irritated breath before charging in, using a grab hand to yank up the vent, before wiggling down into it and army-shuffling as fast as they could. Thankfully, the gas seemed to be blowing in through a fan, and Pat turned, reaching another vent end and rolling out into a room free of red smoke. They pulled back their shirt, peering inside. “You all good, princess?” the teeny naps playfully swatted at my nose. 

Laughing, I scooped my hands underneath her and continued to wander. 

The next room had a battery, much to Pat's delight, now holding one battery in one hand, and little naps up in their spot in their shirt with the other, walking until they found another exit with a blue hand key pad. 

E-asy. 

The door opened, and they found themselves in the hall from before. YESSSS FINALLYYYYY. 

Jogging with little naps poking out of the neck of their shirt, they made it back to the battery ports, slotting the last battery in. The system screamed with its rooster cry, and the entire puzzle gave its happy notes of completion. As Pat ran towards the door, it opened, and they found the room with the generator, which had finally been opened. 

“YESSSSSS,” they hissed, having to take a moment to stim, bouncing on the spot and spinning, delighted that all that hard work had paid off. 

They made their way into the generator room, and after fiddling around with their green hand and flipping a lever, the machine rumbled to life. Delighted, Pattin made their way out the way they came, trailing through the rooms and back up the stairs. 

They couldn’t help but smile when they saw the open doors, exhaling finally. 

Hopefully, that would be enough. “You’re gonna have a new friend,” Pat whispered to lil naps, smiling at the kitten peeking their head out of their shirt's collar. “His name is Jackal.” 

But they barely got off the porch of Home Sweet Home before they were suddenly yanked, flipped around, and then shoved to the floor, a massive yellow mitt pinning them to the ground. 

For a second, fear filled them - it was Huggy, he was back to finish what he started - but no, this one was pink. Kissy Missy loomed over her head, her lips starting to peel back to show her teeth —probably matching her brothers —a low, shaky growl emitting from her chest. 

Pattin's eyes were massive, fingers clutching the little naps toy in hope of protecting it. Kissy reeled back, teeth glimmering in the light…. 

“NO NO!!! LET GO!!! They didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Poppy.  

Chapter Text

“We’re actually here to help.” 

“POPPY???” Pat yelped, alarmingly loud for how out of breath they felt. 

In the same instant, something streaked past Pat’s shoulder and slammed headfirst into Kissy’s chest. 

The large toy reeled back with a terrified snarl, as Jackal, pupils pinpoints and teeth bared, snarled back. “GET YOUR MITTS OFF OF PAT!!!!” 

Pat lunched forward, scooping Jackal into their arms, preventing him from lunging at Kissy again.

From their shirt, lil’ Nap hissed like a particularly pissed off kitten, puffing up their fur despite being smothered with Pat’s shirt. 

“EVERYONE.” Pattin roared, effectively silencing the group. “Take. A. Breath.” 

I made a gentle motion with my hand to Kissy, offering a shaky smile. “We’re not gonna hurt ya girl. You mind…?” 

She pulled back, allowing Pattin to sit up, wincing as their back throbbed from being thrown against the ground- Jackal still snarling from my lap, though it was quieter. 

“We’re still exposed here. Shall we take this somewhere away from where CatNap can find us?”

Poppy nodded, extremely serious and suspiciously acting like she hadn’t jeopardised their entire plan, but Pat pinned wrangling reasons out of her for later. “I know a spot we can hide from his reach.” She was holding her own little flashlight, which was nearly the same size as her. 

Kissy slowly came to a stand, rubbing her arm. 

“I’m sorry… this place makes her tense.”

Pattin weakened immediately. In their lap, Jackal’s growling immediately stopped. He shifted, squirmed, and then wriggled free of Pat’s lap, moving away as Pat pushed themselves to a stand. 

“Well, she’s not alone in that,” I murmured, offering her my most genuine, gentle smile. 

Kissy gently tilted her head at me, before shifting off to the side, lowering a hand to Poppy, and Pat smiled as the doll clambered onto her shoulders. 

Cute. 

They looked back to where Jackal came back with Betty, probably having dropped her to rush to Pat’s aid. 

“Thanks, lil man.” They murmured, taking the toy and crouching so he could jump up onto his spot on their shoulders, too. He grumbled and stuffed his face into their neck, seeming not happy at all. Lil’ Nap’s battered at his face with a paw curiously. 

“I’m glad Ollie could help you get this far,” Poppy mused softly. “He’s the reason we found you at all...” 

She paused, bright eyes staring at them. She wilted slightly, and Pat realised she wasn’t in top shape either - her hair was singed, her dress torn and bloody. Along the right side of her face was a long, jagged crack. 

She sighed. “Looks like the train crash hurt us both.” 

“No thanks to YOU,” Jackal snapped from Pat’s shoulder. 

She winced, casting her eyes to the floor like a scolded child. “You’ve been through so much…” 

“Understatement, really,” Pat said flatly. 

“You… you deserve an explanation,” she said quietly. “Come on.” 

Kissy turned and started to walk off - in an uncanny, similar motion to Huggy when Pat first saw him move. 

“I don’t like this,” Jackal growled lowly, and Pat reached up to pet his paw. “I know, lil man. I know.” 

Above, Poppy murmured to Kissy gently. “Hey…. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay…”

Pat only weakened more. Children… consoling other children. No matter what Poppy had done, she was still a child. 

They made it to a wall, where Kissy crouched down and let Poppy stand on her hand as she rummaged through an electricity control panel with a large poppy on it. A little open lift lowered from the corner of the wall, and Kissy replaced Poppy on her shoulder with deliberate care as she turned to walk onto the platform. 

She stood awkwardly, folding her arms around herself- not defensively, but consolingly. 

The longer Pattin looked at Kissy, the more they wanted to rip someone’s head off. 

She looked so scared. She hadn’t attacked for the same reason as the other toys, just like Jackal, PlayCare reminded her of so much that it was painful. 

They gently stepped onto the lift. 

“Listen…. I’m not your enemy.” Poppy began weakly. “But I couldn’t just let you leave.” 

“We weren’t leaving, Poppy,” Pat said firmly, but not unkindly. “We were gonna come back. That’s why Jackal came with us.”

“Has that case made you forget how dangerous this place is???” Jackal hissed, his teeth still sprung. “You sent us into a death trap! You nearly KILLED Pat!!!” 

“Jackal,” Pat said firmly. “I’m handling it.”

“I didn’t intend for the train to crash! I just-” Poppy inhaled before frowning. “What is happening down here is bigger than all of us— and we didn’t have time!!” 

“I need you,” she pleaded weakly. “So we can right what’s happened here. To get revenge on the monster that ruined everything. That tortured you. That tortured us.” She gestured to Kissy and Jackal with both of her hands. Kissy looked silently at the floor. Jackal twitched and growled up at her. 

“He put me in that god-awful case for so long— he knows I’m out. He knows you're here. If we try to leave now, or even if you got out and then came back to get the Game Station toys out … he’d kill us all. None of us has escaped for that reason- and it’s not just him, it’s Ferals, the Security Beasts. How far do you really think we’d get with all of that, let alone with the Prototype hunting us down???” 

Pat swallowed, chewing their bottom lip. 

“But I’ve seen you,” she continued. “We’ve seen you. How capable you are. You killed Huggy, you made peace with the Pink Prophet-“ 

“You keep her title out of your mouth,” Jackal snarled. 

“Jackal.” Pat hissed. 

“You freed me,” Poppy finished weakly. Her gratitude…. It was still clearly genuine. “You are perfect for this. Let me help you kill him- let me help you save everyone.” 

The lift shuddered as it reached the top, slotting into a platform. The gate swung open. 

“Poppy….” They exhaled, brain reeling. They weren’t up for this - they weren’t a exterminator. But they couldn’t help but fear that if they didn’t agree... well. Poppy had already made it hard to fulfil one promise. 

Their brain flickered back to that tape. To the screams. To the wailing. 

Did he cause that? The Father??? 

“Please, Angel.” 

Were they truly safe with him around, if he was constantly watching???? 

Pattin looked at Kissy. At Jackal. At lil’ Nap— a kid so young she didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of this conversation- curled up and playing with her own tail, still swaddled in their shirt. 

Make your move, Angel. 

Pat inhaled sharply and locked eyes with Poppy. “Fine. I’ll help you.” 

Poppy started to grin, but they cut her off. “But.” 

The doll's grin faltered. “But..?”

“Ollie said there is a lift that can activate once all the power is on. And that we can use it, to go down below, to find another that goes up into the game station.” They took a step forward. “If I’m to help you, we must notify Marie. Bring whatever supplies we have to them so that they can survive. I can’t help you save everyone if you don’t let me make sure they're actually safe.” 

They swallowed and stood up a little straighter. “And then… I’ll be whatever you need. I’ll be your Red Angel.” 

Poppy pursed her lips before relenting after a minute. “Okay… okay..” She then slowly gestured behind Pat, and as they turned, they took in the wall of control panels, including a big, red button. “Do the honours..?” 

They trailed over, before leaning down, looking at Jackal expectantly as Kissy sat down with a resounding thud. 

The Bunzo toy scoffed, fond, but reached out, pressing the button. Pat remained kneeling over so that he could hop off as well. Behind them, the false sun spluttered on, illuminating light across PlayCare once more as they wrangled lil’ Nap from their shirt. 

“Here,” they whispered, shifting oddly with Betty still tucked under an arm. “You think you could keep an eye on this lil girl for me?” 

Jackal lit up a little, gingerly taking the baby into his hold, cuddling her close. Lil’ Nap’s merped in delight, coiling what remained of her tail around him, papping at his face. Jackal smiled and nuzzled his nose to her forehead. Pat then moved over and slumped next to Kissy gently, slinging off their bag and grabpack with a sigh. She was rubbing over her mitts, a clear anxious tic, and Pat weakened. 

They looked down at Betty, tucked under their arm. 

They shifted, smiling at Kissy. “Hey there, kiddo.” The large toy looked to Pat, before her eyes darted back to the floor, curling in on herself. 

Pat got the hint and turned their head away instead. “I have something for you.” 

In the corner of their vision, Pat spotted Kissy turn again, to look at them. She tilted her head slowly. 

They looked down, pulling Betty into their lap. “This is Betty. I got her from the Make-A-Friend machine.” 

“Have you ever been to that machine?” 

Kissy slowly shook her head from the corner of Pat’s vision. They smiled, recalling what the tour guide had told them when they first laid eyes on it. 

“It’s the namesake. To make a friend….. to never be alone. To always have someone there for you. To comfort you, to cheer you on, to support you.” 

“In some cases, to protect you,” they winked at her with a grin. Kissy had uncurled a bit, her posture more loose as she stared at Pat curiously, unblinking. 

They let out a low breath before smiling silently. 

“Here. I want you to have her.” 

She looked somewhat startled, but Pattin held the toy out regardless. “Go on. Take her.” 

Kissy reached, flinching just once before gently taking hold of the toy, curling her arms around it. Her large smile parted, then closed again, and her eyes lowered until they were squinting shut. 

Pat grinned, something warm loosening in their chest. She then… leaned over, head resting on top of Pattin’s. They softened, nuzzling up into the other. “You're welcome.” They murmured back, recognising a mute ‘thank you’ when they saw it. 

They took a minute to breathe, the comforting weight of Kissy on them as they watched Jackal run around the platform with Lil’ Nap clinging to his back, yowling in delight. Poppy, who was sitting on the other side of Kissy, slowly got up, brushing down her little dress before walking in front of Pat.

They exhaled weakly, knowing this moment of peace was over, already. 

“CatNap will be coming.” She warned softly. 

“I know,” Pat said somberly, closing their eyes. “I know. It's best I go now, huh?” 

They cracked an eye open on the perfect moment to catch her wince. “It’s okay… I get it. Big murderous death cat and all.” 

“He’s the final obstacle the Prototype has placed against us,” Poppy added, fidgeting. 

Nudging Poppy with their foot, they pulled away from Kissy. “I’ve dealt with two; how hard could one more be?” They droned sarcastically, before exhaling. “Jack?” 

Jackal paused in his play, face faltering, before running over. “Yeah?” 

Pattin squatted, putting on a brave smile. “Your second in command, yeah? You're in charge. You think you could look after these three while I sort the power?” 

That worked like a charm, as Jackal puffed out his chest, ignoring how Lil’ Nap’s was smacking at his little tuft of hair insistently. “Of course!!!!” He preened, clearly pleased with the title of being in charge. 

“Okay… I’ll be back, lil man. Stay safe.” Pat paused before giving the bunny a gentle hug, squeezing him. “I’ll be quick.” 

“That better be a promise.” He grumbled, hugging back as tightly as his mitts could. 

Pat softly chuckled, but said nothing as they pulled away.