Chapter Text
This was their first nightmare and Devland was already an anxious wreck. Was their heart beating or was it an illusion the demon Miss Bierce warned them about had created to torture them? Either way, whether it was real or not, their heart was pounding in their chest.
The paths of the abandoned amusement park seemed endless. Every spot here looked the same. All Devland could do to figure out where they were was by following the Soul Shards that floated in place. Fragments of those before them, those who died. It made them sick thinking about it. They didn’t want to end up like those who failed.
They weren’t even sure how they ended up down here. Miss Bierce claimed that most who ended up down here usually came via a ritual. But they didn’t remember doing any kind of ritual. They liked to stay far away from that kind of thing. The last thing they remembered before ending up down here was running into the streets on a rainy night to save a lost little chicken and then the bright headlights of an incoming car. Then, it was just darkness before something pulled them out from the void they were in.
They stopped for a moment. Were those footsteps from one of those animatronics or was it their own footsteps echoing off the walls? Devland quickly sped up. They didn’t want to risk finding out the hard way.
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Despite Miss Bierce complaining that Devland was taking too long, they managed to get more than half of the shards in the park. There were likely more elsewhere, but progress was progress and Devland took what they could get.
Avoiding the animatronics was the tricky part. They were everywhere and there was more than just one version of the rabbit and the hen. Devland snuck past whenever they could. As they kept moving, trying desperately to not be seen, their foot stepped on a shard of glass. Wincing as it cracked beneath their tennis shoes, they stepped back and picked up one of the other shards. They stared at their faint reflection. Despite how gently they held it, the glass was still able to slightly cut their mahogany-brown skin.
They hated fighting so much. But, if they had to, this might work to get them out in a sticky situation.
Just then, they heard something behind them. They froze, their eyes snapping wide open and their hands trembling as they turned and jabbed the shard of glass forward at empty air. Before them, a few feet away, stood a clone of the yellow rabbit. There was a number printed onto his left wrist; 415. They looked… stunned, almost concerned. His hands were raised in a surrendered motion. His eyes drifted from Devland, to the glass shard, to Devland again. Then, he spoke.
“323? Sta bene?” 415 asked, his blue eyes locked them. 323? Devland’s eyes drifted down towards their arms. They saw white fabric covering metal arms with a few dirt stains here and there, a print that almost resembled feathers on their body. On their right wrist, the number 323 was printed on. The realization dawned on Devland as they starred at the face of the animatronic chicken in their reflection where their real face should've been.
…..They had been sleepwalking, dreaming about the past again, hadn't they?
Hesitantly, they lowered the glass shard. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine…” they responded in a voice that was not theirs, but they were to speak in it anyway. It was too feminine. It made them uncomfortable, especially after years of altering their voice to sound more gender-neutral. They didn’t know why they were even able to change into this form, let alone change their voice to match the face of Penny. All they knew was that they’d somehow gotten a second chance and had to play this role if they didn’t want to be found. If anyone found out the truth, that their fate as a mortal wasn’t as set in stone as previously believed, they’d be done for. They just knew it.
Slowly, 415 stepped over and took the glass shard out of Devland’s–323’s–hands. He tossed it aside. “Come on,” he gently encouraged. “Let’s get back to the others. They’re probably wondering where we went.” Taking their hand, 415 began leading Devland back to where all the other clones were. Devland didn’t remember a clone of Lucky being so… nice before. It was usually just a slight annoyance mixed with the acceptance that sleepwalking wasn’t something done just to be difficult. As a matter of fact, this clone of Lucky was different in other ways. Maybe they were just overthinking it.
As the two walked back in silence, they caught sight of a clone of the pig animatronic, Hangry. The number printed on his right wrist was 471. They were arguing with another clone of Lucky, but Devland didn’t see the number on that one. 471 pushed something into the pocket of his hoodie, likely in an attempt to hide it from the other Lucky clone. As the un-numbered clone pointed to where the other clones were, 471 turned away. Devland heard him quietly grumble to himself, “Siyempre, Kamahalan…”
471 joined 415 and Devland on the walk back after that. He seemed nice enough. Devland rarely saw him, but his monotone expression usually made them stay away. Silence filled the air as they picked up the faint scent of cigarette smoke, something they'd learned to identify back when they were still in the mortal realm. They didn't mind. If 471 wanted to smoke, that was his choice. Though, they were curious about something. Halfway to their destination, Devland’s question slipped out by mistake. “471, what’s a ‘Kamahalan’?” 415 looked at 471, seemingly also wanting to know. 471’s faded green eyes slightly widened, as if he wasn’t expecting someone to hear him. “Pardon?” He asked, looking right at Devland. 415 immediately turned away as Devland stammered. “I… forget it. It’s nothing…”
The rest of the walk to the clones’ quarters was too uncomfortably quiet. No one was willing to fix it.