Chapter Text
Anonymous Doctor: “He’s most likely going to be living off a ton of bio-mechanical parts for the rest of his life.”
Said “he” being Garnold, stirred in bed uncomfortably.
Clunkr: “Come on, man. I told you today was going to be a hot work day.”
Clunkr was tempted to punch Garnold in the shoulder in a fit of blind rage, but catches himself and returns his hands to his lap.
Clunkr: “Look, Garnold, you’re getting your iron lung within the next week, so at least try to comply with the doctors. I have to make your fake organs as fast as possible, so I can’t be here for you 24/7. I’ll try to call as much as I can though, alright?”
Garnold manages to get out a small nod. Meanwhile, in the other room, Wenda sits shell-shocked. The memory of Garnold collapsing and yelling in pain replaying in her head over and over was torturous, making her shudder before her train of thought gets interrupted.
Clunkr: “Come on, Wenda.”
Wenda: “Ah… alright.”
Wenda stood up and followed Clunkr out the front door of the Urgent Care building, sliding into the passenger’s front seat of Clunkr’s car.
Clunkr: “You don’t mind if we make a small pit stop, do you?”
Clunkr said as he checked his rear view window. His words made Wenda perk up.
Wenda: “Oh! Oh no, I don’t mind.”
Clunkr: “Good.”
Wenda: “…What?”
Clunkr: “I’m taking you to therapy.”
Wenda almost jumped out of her seatbelt the second she processed Clunkr saying “Therapy”.
Wenda: “WHAT?!”
And at that moment, Clunkr began backing his car out of the parking lot.
Wenda: “I don’t want to talk about my feelings to someone I don’t even know!”
Clunkr: “It’s for your health, Wenda.”
Clunkr stopped backing up the car for a moment.
Clunkr: “Listen, we’ve both been through some traumatic shit today, and if I were you, I wouldn’t want to talk about one of my friends being on the verge of death today. But, listen, stuff is gonna sting more the longer you h-“
BEEEEEEEP!!!
Clunkr: “OKAY, OKAY, I’M BACKING OUT. God damn, dude…”
Wenda: “…”
Now on the road, Clunkr breaks the unfavorable silence.
Clunkr: “What I mean to say is, don’t hold that shit in, Wenda.”
She snorted, holding back laughter (to Clunkrs dismay).
Clunkr: “Okay, that was immature.”
Wenda: “You can’t expect me to keep a straight face, old man!”
Clunkr: “Still.”
Wenda’s snorting turned into an uncomfortable chuckle.
Wenda: “…Sorry.”
Clunkr let out a sigh.
Clunkr: “It’s fine. I just ask you to be more serious with topics like this, okay?”
Wenda: “Alright!”
A little itty bit later, Clunkr pulls into a parking space near the front entrance of a therapy center.
Clunkr: “Look, it’s going to be almost exactly like a normal conversation. Just say what you feel or think, the therapist will say something back to you, you reply, rinse and repeat. Simple.”
Wenda sighed with uncertainty.
Wenda: “And how long am I supposed to do that for…?”
Clunkr: “… An hour.”
Wenda let her head hang low.
Clunkr: “Hey, hey.”
Wenda: “…Yes?”
Clunkr put his hand on Wenda’s shoulder (?).
Clunkr: “You’re going to be okay, alright?”
Wenda looked up at Clunkr.
Wenda: “Alright.”
Suddenly, Wenda was standing in the middle of the parking lot, and Clunkr’s car was nowhere to be seen.
Wenda: “Damn you, metalhead…”
Wenda whispered under her breath before trudging into the therapy center begrudgingly.
Inside the therapy waiting room, Wenda sat impatiently, her eyes staring at the clock every few seconds, before she heard a call of her name.
?: “Miss… Wenda?”
Wenda thought to herself.
Wenda: [Oh god, that’s me. What to do, what to do…]
Wenda uncomfortably shuffled to the front desk.
?: “Your appointment is now.”
The person motioned over to the doorway, where an all black figure, wearing a tie and a top hat held it ajar.
Wenda: [This guy looks professional, at least… Maaaaybe Clunkr was right. Maybe this won’t be that bad…not going to admit that to him though, not in a million years.]
Wenda thought to herself as she entered the therapy room and laid back on the couch in said room.
Wenda: “…Hello.”
Blackhat: “Hello, Miss Wenda. My name is Blackhat, but you can just call me Black. For time's sake…”
Blackhat said, pointing his thumb toward the clock.
Wenda shuffled uncomfortably, letting out a nervous chuckle.
Wenda: “Yeah…”
Blackhat: “You sound very uncomfortable, but don’t worry! I’m only here to listen, and to help.”
Blackhat said as he grabbed a notebook and pen off a nearby coffee table.
Blackhat: “Just lie back, and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Wenda let her head lay against the armrest of the couch, staring up towards the ceiling. Blackhat readied his pen at the same time.
Wenda: “Well, today was an… intense day.”
Blackhat: “…Continue.”
Wenda: “A close friend… no, more like a mentor. My.. mentor invited me over to his place to show me some of the stuff he and his husband were working on.”
Wenda looked at Blackhat for a quick moment out of anxiety, expecting a disgusted glare, but instead saw him nodding for her to go on as he wrote down her words.
Wenda: “But, out of the blue, his husband’s suit just… I don’t know, collapsed in on itself? I don’t know the term for it, because I’m not an engineer. But, anyways, he was in critical condition when we made it to the ER.”
Blackhat let out an understanding hum, looking up from his notepad.
Blackhat: “Do you have any idea why that may have happened?”
Wenda scratched her scalp, seemingly trying to rack her memory.
Wenda: “I’d guess it was because it was a hot day, since I overheard my mentor saying something about that…”
Blackhat put down his pen and sat back in his chair.
Blackhat: “Maybe it’s because of the percolating sweat? I’d assume it’d be very hot to be wearing a suit on a day like today.”
Wenda: “…That makes a little sense actually… but that's not why I’m here.”
Blackhat: “Oh?”
Blackhat picked up his pen once more.
Wenda: “The… memory… of seeing him fall over and yell in pain is, like… ingrained into my head, and… it keeps coming back to haunt me. I’ve tried things like, listening to music or something to get my mind off it but I somehow keep getting reminded of the sounds-”
Blackhat nodded slowly as she rambled on, before putting his pen back into his hat (why would he do that is he arithmetic?).
Blackhat: “I may have a solution to your problem, IIIIF… you’re willing to try it.”
Wenda went from laying back to sitting up in almost an instant, the thought of being able to forget about that harrowing memory for even a minute sounded like heaven.
Wenda: “wait really-”
Blackhat: “...Yes.”
Wenda: “Well, what is it?”
Blackhat: “It’s simple.”
Blackhat dug through his hat for a bit before pulling out a string wrapped around a small disc, a pendulum.
Blackhat: “You see, you stare at the small disc and repeat what I say as I swing it back and forth, and, like magic, the memory is gone!”
authors note: premium bullshittery
Wenda raised her eyebrow.
Wenda: “…Sounds kind of illegitimate.”
Blackhat: “It’s free.”
Wenda: “Let’s do it.”
authors note: I’m not writing about Wenda getting hypnotized you freaks
co-authors note: he should’ve (IM KIDDING)
After the therapy session, Wenda walked out of the building with a binder filled with papers in hand, as she approached Clunkr’s car, stiffly sitting in the front passenger seat, not batting an eye at him.
Clunkr: “Hey, Wenda.”
Wenda: “Hello, Clunkr.”
Wenda’s voice was… colder than usual, still not looking at Clunkr.
Clunkr: “…Did therapy go well?”
Wenda: “Guess.”
Clunkr: “…I’d assume yes, since you have a binder bulging with papers.”
Wenda: “…”
Clunkr: “…Did things go well?”
She stayed silent, looking forward out the windshield as if she was a still inanimate object.
Clunkr: “Mm…”
Clunkr pulled out of the parking spot, trying not to awkwardly look at Wenda’s blank stare. The ride home was… silent, to say the least.
Clunkr: “See you tomorrow…?”
Wenda turned around to face Clunkr, a wave of dread washing over him as her thin dead eyes glared daggers at him.
Wenda: “…Sure.”
She faced away from him, holding her binder of papers close to her chest and whispering “You can try.” under her breath.
Clunkr: “Well then… good night, Wenda.”
Wenda: “…”
Clunkr pulled out of the driveway and drove his way home, but Wenda had a job to do.
Clunkr could barely focus on the road driving home, the thought of Wenda being a different person from when he first dropped her off at the mental health clinic rushing through his head for the entire night. Meanwhile, at the hospital laid Garnold, on the verge of dozing off before hearing the door open.
Wenda: “Hello, Garnold.”
Garnold was about to wave a weak arm at Wenda before seeing her pick up his helmet and walk over to his direction. He panicked, attempting to call for help, but not enough sound left his mouth to grab anyone’s attention as Wenda secured the helmet onto his head.
Wenda: “I’ll make this short. Don’t move.”
Garnold panicked as he tried to shake the helmet off of his head and as Wenda went to the water cooler, before remembering that Clunkr had a built-in messaging system in his helmet used by morse code for emergencies. He began to punch in something in morse via blinking as a final attempt for help, before suddenly feeling Wenda’s gloved hand around his neck.
“Good night, Garnold.”
At the very last moment, he sent the message. As the water made contact with his helmet, seeping through the screws outside of it and setting off the springs inside of it. As Garnold thrashed in his bed, thin sharp metal ripping his consciousness apart and cold water leaking into his skull; Wenda had already left the building, leaving a torn mess of a person known as Garnold in a hospital bed to die alone.
On the other side of the messaging system, Clunkr received a message, his phone going off. He laid his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes before picking up his phone and viewing his notifications.
Clunkr: “…Who could be texting me this late…?”
The text read as follows.
“.. - / .-- .- ... / .-- . -. -.. .-”
Clunkr: “I.. It… was… Wenda…?”
“...God no.”