Work Text:
Now everything has changed. The shackles have been removed, and the masks have been shattered. The victims have bared their sharpened fangs, and the hunters have fallen to the bottom of the food chain. Now... Now everything is different.
Her body is the shell of a porcelain doll. A small one, so small that she fits comfortably on his shoulder, clinging tightly as he walks through the recently emptied corridors. The Prototype is extremely cautious. He would rather limit his field of vision than risk accidentally dropping or breaking his precious sister.
He can feel Poppy trembling in fear at the sight of the bloodshed. If he had muscles, he would have snorted. It's okay... The massacre was indeed brutal, and her confusion is completely justified. After all, she is still a child. She will never grow up, and he is the only one who can protect her.
It's interesting how things have turned out. Elliot was right, they have truly gotten along. Now everything will be fine. The scientists who tormented them are almost completely dead, and those who are not will soon be.
The Prototype watches as his sister looks around helplessly, clinging to him for support. He continues to observe. It's just a shock that will soon pass. Isn't she happy to be free from the torture? Yes, she is, she must be. She just doesn't realize it yet.
***
It's not quite how he had envisioned it. Poppy's doubts have not disappeared, but she has become less receptive to communication. If it weren't for "Ollie," he wouldn't have any idea what was going on in her mind.However, this doesn't make the situation any easier. He has repeatedly assured her that he will protect her from any threat, and he proved it when one of the rabid little creatures decided that the doll was an excellent target for their hunt. Now, the pierced body lies in a pool of its own blood in the corner of the room, and his sister is... crying.
The Hour of joy had passed only a few days ago, but her nerves were already frayed. Prototype didn't know how to comfort her. It would be easier and safer to express his concern later, through Ollie, but for now, he simply stood with his arms at his sides, observing her. If he had a heart, it would have been wracked with sadness. However, he no longer had a heart, only an ugly grimace of a perpetual and inappropriate smile.
- Why? - Poppy exclaimed, on the verge of hysteria. It was clear that she wasn't referring to the creature she had just killed. - Why is this happening?
Prototype's hand twitched involuntarily, almost reaching out to her. What had he intended to do? Comfort her? Stroke her hair? No, she wouldn't understand. It was as if she didn't want to understand. And he didn't know how to make her understand yet.
- It was necessary, - he replied in a dull voice, echoing Elliot's words from an old conversation. However, Poppy was so distraught that she didn't recognize her father's voice or appreciate the irony. Perhaps it was for the best. It would reduce the number of questions he would ask.
Her stubbornness was starting to anger him. How could she not understand after all these years? They couldn't simply walk away and forget about what had happened. But was it really a bad thing? This place could be a paradise for both of them, if only they could...
***
Poppy was being childish again. How long would her childish behavior continue? No, Prototype understood. He had indulged her too much, allowing her to play with Doey and the others in the "Safe heaven," catering to her pointless desire to pretend to be normal. It seemed that she had truly believed that she was standing up to him. However, it was time to end this farce.
She was crying and screaming, struggling to break free from his gentle yet deathly grip. Prototype ignored her pleas for help, relentlessly moving towards the crate. A part of him, perhaps the last remnants of his humanity, protested, urging him to give her one last chance, to be kind to his beloved sister. Must not. She doesn't understand, and he can't explain it to her. This... It's the only way.
— No, no, no, no, no! - Poppy screams as he pushes her into a box and ruthlessly kills one of the orphans. — Please, The Prototype!.. PLEASE STOP!
He's not sorry. Unlike his sister, he had long ago rejected "Oliver" and accepted himself as a monster. And this brat was getting in the way. Means… It was necessary.
And it still sucks. If the Prototype had a conscience, it would have started gnawing with triple force, sparing neither steel, nor bones, nor ... whatever it was instead of a heart. He reassures himself that it's all for her own good. None of them will have any peace as long as Poppy clings to these orphans, the last stronghold of her former life before all this nightmare. But no one can go back to their old life, and she's the only one who doesn't accept it. Nothing, nothing. Time alone will put everything in its place in her little porcelain head. And then… And then they will be together. As promised. Like a real family.
***
Heavy metal pincers clattered across the floor. Everything was quiet. Not like on other levels of the factory — not that oppressive and ominous silence. It's always been a little different here. Almost cozy.
How long has it been since he locked her in that drawer? A year? Two? Five? How many times has he come here and just stood there, denying himself the pleasure of crossing the few meters separating them and getting his sister out of prison? No, the process must not be disrupted, otherwise the whole point will be lost. It's still too early.
But he likes to visit her. Even being outside the door, not seeing and not allowing to be seen, the Prototype enjoys these minutes in its own way. She's right here. She's safe. She doesn't run around the factory with these losers, risking falling off somewhere and crashing. If he had a soul, it would be calm now. Anyway, their separation is not eternal. We need to wait a little longer, to adjust the moment. And then everything will change. Everything will be fine.
In the end, it's all for her. For both of them.
***
Something's wrong upstairs. It's too restless. The commotion is more typical of the lower floors, where life (or its twisted remnants) is in full swing, whether it's the Resistance, the Doctor, or other small creatures. Upstairs is different. That's why he took Poppy there. It's more "normal." But not now.
His fears were confirmed. An intruder had entered the factory. Haggy had already disappeared, and his girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. But he didn't care about them. The focus was on the case.
It... It was empty. The intruder had gotten ahead of him. Poppy had escaped. If the Prototype had a normal head, it would have been aching by now. The process had been disrupted, and Poppy hadn't had enough time locked up. Perhaps... Perhaps it was this segment that stirred something different in her. Perhaps she would want to take revenge, to kill. He wouldn't be surprised.
Anger clouds his mind. Grabbing one of the pillows from the floor, the Prototype tears it apart in one motion, imagining that instead of the down, he is tearing apart the insides of the stranger who "stole" the most precious thing he has. This worm has ruined everything. His hand reaches for the glass, which now holds an empty void. His needle-like fingers scratch the surface, leaving deep cracks. Strangely, this brings him comfort.
He must keep in mind that Poppy is still a child. She will make mistakes. And "Ollie"... "Ollie" will help her. If that's what she prefers. In one way or another, he will bring her home. It is his duty as an older brother.
...Where you are?...