Chapter Text
Angel’s trip into the labs had been nothing short of a nightmare. At least so far, and usual optimism was in short supply.
Where to start?
Well, let’s start with the fact that he was separated from Poppy and Kissy, AND Doey now. Doey, who he promised he would help and wasn’t going anywhere too only a short while before a hole opened in the floor and he disappeared.
The Prototype’s promise to find him was, apparently, not that important as it seemed as he hadn’t shown claw or crab leg since their brief chat on the phone. The phone which Angel was still carrying around with him.
Which would’ve been a good thing, except for the other problem.
Huggy Wuggy was that problem.
Now, since Angel had gotten down here, he had been trying his hardest to not get anyone else killed. Especially after Huggy, Mommy Long Legs, Miss Delight, Yarnaby, Dr. Sawyer- well, Sawyer was sort of a deliberate assassination, but it was hard to feel as bad about that once he found out all about the horrendous stuff he had done.
Seeing Huggy show up and realizing he had been alive the whole time should’ve been a relief! There was one less person off his hit list.
Except, no. That turned out to be a huge problem.
Because after a heated chase and a very close escape through an elevator, Angel found himself in a pitch-dark basement, without a Grab Pack, getting tailed by a bunch of inside-out hobgoblins that could see a whole lot better than he could even with backwards eyes.
“’Protect me’. What a load of bull…”
Oh, and he was still bitter about the Ollie thing.
How could he not be? He told Ollie everything. He trusted him more than he trusted Poppy and told him that. He asked him for his advice and blew up Safe Haven in the process. All those long talks were just him feeding information to the enemy- one who was mocking him the entire time without him knowing it.
And now the Prototype not only had the upper hand and dismantled everything they had, but he was around here somewhere. Waiting for him to stumble up so that he could kill him in person. Probably while doing the fake Ollie voice.
It was the ultimate betrayal.
But… would it have been better if Ollie was real and the Prototype had killed and absorbed him?
…No. Then he would just be beating himself up for not protecting him. Then there’d be another victim AND the Prototype would still be lurking about. This was the better option by a thin margin.
Still, wandering around in the dark with his only defense being shouting, “Stay back! I’m just passing through,” wasn’t the highlight of his day.
Well, he had a new friend now.
He looked down at the pixelated face on the star shaped watch on his arm.
Yup. The new Ollie. It couldn’t talk but it chirped and directed him around, so there’s that. It had a built-in flashlight too, which made it easier to drive off the little cretins crawling around the basement.
Maybe calling them cretins when they were clearly victims was too callous considering their circumstances. After all, looking at their little homes and little beds… there was a chance they had been kids too. Even if they weren’t, if they had been former workers, their dirty, cramped conditions were hard to stomach.
He might’ve been more sympathetic had he not gotten tackled and taken to the ground almost immediately after he thought that.
One of them stood over him. Its wide mouth lined with teeth and its pointed reversed eyes staring blankly as it began to yank him. It was remarkably strong, dragging him towards an open hatch that looked like it belonged in a morgue.
He tried fighting back, but he was still worn down after fighting the Doctor, and fighting Doey, and falling down here, and running from Huggy, and falling in an elevator-
He took it back. Wandering around in the dark WAS the highlight of his day.
But right as that cryptic thought passed, and right as the thing got his back up on the wall, he heard a voice shouting from nearby.
“Get off- HEY, GET OFF!”
The Outimal looked to the side only to get clobbered by some sort of short bat. A visible shock sparking against them. They yelped and scampered off, leaving Angel’s savior stumbling in.
He looked… Not too different from the Outimal, admittedly. A rusty color with red cracks of fur around his body. He had bat-like ears and square nose, an eye patch and a vest, and one eye with an almost flower shaped button iris.
He looked like a character he had seen earlier on a cutout, but he was-… Inside out.
The realization twisted up his insides. The others looked like they were made that way almost. Like they could’ve been reanimated in those backwards bodies, but this toy, no. This was deliberate. It had to be. The implications of that were terrible.
“You alright?” it asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Just shook me up.”
The creature sized him up. Realizing a second too late that what was slumped before him was in fact a human being and not a toy.
“You’re not… Wait a second, are you…?”
“I’m not a worker. I didn’t work here,” Angel blurted out first and foremost.
“No, I mean. You’re… huh. I don’t believe it.” He shook his head and leaned on his bat, gesturing to the man. “I know you! You’re the one they’ve all been talking about. The one who put Mommy in a grinder. Who gave the cat a nap. Who blew up the Shelf!’
“I didn’t-!... Mean to do that. Most of those, actually.”
He decided not to clarify that it was in fact Safe Haven that blew up.
“Y’know, down here they’re calling you the Playtime Butcher.” It made a throat cutting motion for emphasis.
“They’re… They’re calling me what?”
“Hey, hey. Easy. It’s a compliment, really.”
“I don’t think it is?”
“Maybe it ain’t. You don’t seem much like a killer to me,” the creature said. His smile showed that he was joking. “Any truth to it?”
“…Well, Mommy did go into a grinder.” Angel sat up into a crouch. “And something did blow up, so that much is true.”
Maybe the Catnap part too in a way. After all, he did leave him in Playcare on bedrest. So, he DID technically take a nap.
“You’re a real local legend. What are you doing all the way down here? Is Poppy… I mean, you were with her, right?”
Angel’s guard dropped a little bit. Up until this point he couldn’t tell if it was just a friendly toy or what but casually asking about Poppy like that suggested it was one of her friends.
Good, he needed more of those. They were the only friends he had.
“We got split up on the way down. It’s a long story.”
“Oh… And the rest of them? Up in Safe Haven. I heard things.”
“I don’t know. Doey’s alright. He’s going to look for them.”
“So, Doey’s alive?!” Angel nodded. The creature sighed. “That’s good to hear. They were saying he went crazy and… Be careful who you tell that to. He’s public enemy number one. Well, after you.”
Angel didn’t want to worry about Doey right now. He was sure he was alright. “What else did you hear?”
“They said that…”
He trailed off at the sound of some distorted voices and movement nearby. Both looked over warily.
“Hold that thought. It’s not safe here out in the open. But I’ve got a place. Just follow me.”
The creature began to limp away, and Angel was quick to get up and follow at his heels. Looking around cautiously as he trailed behind him.
“My name’s Giblet. I knew Poppy back before… well, uh… before everything,” the critter introduced himself.
Wait, Giblet? He knew that name. The one who hid with Hoppy, the one who crossed the Prototype- suddenly his friendliness made a little more sense. He wasn’t just one of Poppy’s pals, he had been in Safe Haven at some point.
So… why did he leave? Was he always… Angel decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask right now. Later, once he felt it out.
“Nice to meet you, Giblet. I’m… Upstairs they call me Angel.”
“Angel, huh? Why do they do that?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure… But I’ve been following Poppy since I got in here. So, Poppy’s Angel… But you two go back a long way?”
“A looong way.” He peeked back over his shoulder. “Was she really gonna blow this place up?”
Angel hesitated. “She was… thinking about it.”
Giblet sighed and shook his head.
“That girl’s heart’s always been in the right place, but she’s been behind glass too long.”
“Mm-hmm,” Angel vaguely replied.
Looks like that plan was dead in the water. He should’ve felt relief from that, but he really didn’t.
Giblet opened a vent and ducked inside. “This way. C’mon.”
Angel crouched down and crawled after him through the tight, cement shaft. He got around the corner to see Giblet swiftly hobbling away. Deceptively fast for such a little guy. He had to scramble after him and came out in another cluttered room.
The joking comment of, “You’re fast for a little guy,” died on his tongue when he heard a loud noise nearby. Something mechanical.
Giblet sunk into himself. His ears drooping with fear as he looked around with paranoia.
“No. No, no!”
Red smoke started to leak into the room. Angel, without his gas mask, had to take in a few last gasps of air before holding his breath. What-?
“He wouldn’t come down here, just-.”
Oh no. Not now. Not now.
Giblet pointed towards some large crates that had been made into homes for the Outimals. “Find a place to hide!” Then he ran over to hide as well.
Angel didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted for the dirty, tarp covered boxes and hid inside. Crouching down so that he was tucked away.
Except now he was also steeped in the Red Smoke. Not that it mattered much as a gust of the red haze flowed into the room right as he sat down. He kept his hands clamped over his mouth and nose to not risk inhaling even the smallest amount.
He could hold his breath for a while but not forever.
No Grab Pack. No gas mask. No nothing. Just him sitting here in a box. He wasn’t ready.
But ready or not, here it came.
He heard the hulking steps even before he stepped into view. Though once the first one did his heart decided to speed up to a mile a minute, and that made his lungs beg harder for a single breath. He held out.
He couldn’t see any more of the Prototype than he had before… Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. He was seeing a lot more of the legs and underside of him. The clicking was a lot closer too, and the legs were so close that he could see fleshy tendons holding them together.
The urge to peek out was killing him. He wanted to see what he was working with, but he couldn’t risk being caught.
Maybe it was the haze leaking in or the lack of oxygen, or perhaps just the presence of whatever the Prototype was, but he was less afraid of getting killed in that moment and more so dreading having to face him. He wasn’t ready to look him in the eye and deal with what he had done. His biggest mistake down here.
But he wasn’t even sure that the Prototype didn’t already know where he was.
To punctuate this, a hand started to slide down in his peripheral vision. The long, needle fingers inching towards the edge of his hiding space. Coming closer and hooking as though preparing to flip over the box.
Angel braced himself. Three… Two… One…
And suddenly the hand recoiled. The Prototype shuffled back quickly on his legs. Something was running around in the smoke.
For a split-second Angel thought it was Giblet, so he half-choked and half-gagged when it ran underfoot and one of the crab legs swiftly stabbed into it. It wasn’t until the Prototype snatched it up in his claws that Angel realized it was just an Outimal. In hindsight, that explained the garbled feedback coming from it.
Then the massive body and many legs began to pass by. Just in time, as by then, he was losing hold of his breath. He watched him walk out of view, but it sounded like he was still there. Did he leave? It sounded like he was still there, right?
Angel edged forward to peek out.
A leg stabbed down right in front of him. Just like at the locker. Got him just as much now as it did then. He was just that close.
He choked under his hand and air that smelled heavily of poppies slipped into his legs. The panic kicked in instantly. The rush of adrenaline, the pounding of his heart, the feeling like he was falling off a ledge even when he was sitting flat on the ground.
He waited for the hallucinations to kick in. Or for him to black out and then have the worst nightmares of his life.
…But for some reason that didn’t happen. He still had that strange, sickening adrenaline feeling that he got when accidentally inhaling the Red Smoke, but it lacked the headache, the woozy feeling, and the- to be blunt- horrifying hallucinations that would follow on his heels.
The Red Smoke smelled a little different too, he noticed. Though he couldn’t tell until the room started to air out, once the Prototype wandered out of the room and off somewhere to search for him. That time he knew he had left from the fading noise and clearing air.
He took in a few more tentative breaths as he dared to peek his head out. The coast was clear. No hallucinations, no monsters, nothing.
That was very strange. Was the Prototype’s smoke weaker or had he just built up a tolerance to it? Maybe he just hadn’t inhaled enough.
Giblet came stumbling out of his own hiding spot looking after where the big beast had gone and pointing off towards Angel.
“He doesn’t usually come down here… You must’a got him real worked up.”
“Good.”
Angel didn’t realize he had said that out loud until Giblet gave him a funny look. Then a dry laugh. “Good?”
“Good,” Angel doubled down.
Good. Let him be worked up. Let him get all frantic and search around in a frenzy like he did when he lost Angel after he was chasing him. Let him feel confused and alone for a while. Or at least let him waste as much time as Angel did with him.
But Giblet was giving him a seriously weird look now. Ears still drooped down with fear. Angel sobered up and climbed out.
“Should we…?”
“Right. Yeah. Over here.”
They walked across the room and right back into another vent. Giblet hobbling along and Angel crawling behind him, lighting the way with his star shaped little watch companion.
“So, what did you do?” Giblet eventually asked while they were in the shaft. “I didn’t think he’d care so much about the toys. Bet it’s about Catnap; he was always following him around like his pet.”
Angel considered how to answer. There were so many things he could’ve listed. So much stuff he didn’t want to get into.
…
“I slapped him with a Grab Pack hand. I think I might’ve hit him in the face.”
“Ha ha. No, really.”
…
“Wait, seriously? No joke?” Giblet looked back.
“No joke.”
“How’d you survive that?!” Giblet turned back to face him. “How- How’d you get away with that without… You know… Getting the, uh… In and out?”
The what? Wait, oh no. Is that why he was- Don’t ask. Don’t bring it up. Just nod and keep going. How’d he get away with it?
“Not sure.”
Because he was his favorite.
“Because he wanted me for something.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Oh, so he knows-knows you’re down here.” Giblet’s ears drooped again. He turned forward and hustled along. “We better hurry then.”
So, they did. And after a tedious drag through the vent, with a few twists and turns, they arrived at Giblet’s hideout.
Angel was hoping it wasn’t going to be a little tent like the Outimals were sleeping in, as selfish as that was to think. But much to his relief it wasn’t. It was much more secure, a bit more spacious, and even had power. Being under a working light was a huge plus after what he just walked through.
The place looked like a little apartment. With cozy rugs on the floor and a little generator set up in the center of the room. There was a workbench to his right and past that he could see some of a small bed blocked on this side by junk. There were shelves with supplies too.
But one of the things that caught his eye was a window straight ahead. Set up with two chairs and a table under it, it stared out into a cavern. And he could make out a distinct glow in the distance, but from here he hadn’t made out yet what was out there.
“Sooo, whaddya think?” Giblet asked. Noticing Angel looking around. Before Angel could answer though, he jumped in to add. “I know it’s not much, but uh… Who needs fancy murals on the walls and string lights, or a barber shop or whatever?”
…He thought he was talking about Safe Haven until the random barber shop comment. Wait, WAS there a barber shop down here?
How insane it was that Angel was considering that question with a completely straight face.
“And I got plans anyway. I… I’m not gonna be down here forever.”
“It’s nice. I like it!”
“You really think so.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s already nicer than some of the places I’ve crashed at.”
Giblet chuckled and turned around to start up the generator. Pretty much smacking it to life.
“Thanks for that. I know it’s not Safe Haven, but…”
“It’s nicer than Safe Haven…” Angel admitted.
“Huh. You think so? Haven’t seen that place in a while. Used to be real snazzy.”
It was. Just thinking of those quaint, warm little tents and that homely feel made Angel regret his comment immediately. It soured on his tongue, despite the fact that it was true. Comparing the two, this place looked more like a standard abode.
Crazy to think that he’d never go back there again…
Giblet noticed Angel’s silence and let the non-question drop. Instead turning back to face him.
“Look, I’m not the kinda guy who spends time feeling sorry for himself. I mean the way I see it, everything’s a tragedy until it’s meant to be.”
Angel couldn’t help but look a little confused. Giblet gestured over towards the window.
“Y-You think this is an accident? You ending up down here, like this?”
This wasn’t an accident, Angel thought dryly as he looked out towards the glow through the window. But it wasn’t fate that brought him down here. It wasn’t some sort of prophetic arrival of a hero like in a book. He was here because others made sure he was.
He wasn’t going to tell Giblet that. He seemed like a nice guy, he needed all the hope he could get, and… Angel was sort of over telling people about what he really thought. Best to just keep quiet and keep it to himself.
“Both of us wanting to kill the Prototype.”
Well, that was awfully sudden.
Angel looked back at Giblet in surprise. Giblet averted his gaze.
“I mean… that’s where this train is headed, right?”
Was it?
…Was there even a choice?
“I… That’s what Poppy wants,” Angel admitted. He looked off towards the window again. “Whatever happens happens. That’s my motto.”
He walked over to look out. Giblet watching him.
“Huh. You must got great luck then. Share a little of that, eh?”
“Heck no, it’s all mine,” Angel joked. It was dryer than he intended, but Giblet chuckled so he got it. Good.
He looked out the window. There was a giant cavern alit by artificial lighting that cast it in a reddish glow.
In a way it was a beautiful view even though…
…Wait a second.
He squinted. Wait a second…
“Is that a big pile of bones?”
Giblet’s ears lowered. “Well, uh… Yeah. That’s where they dumped the ones who, uh… Got cleaned off.”
Oh, okay. Beautiful death pit. Nice. Could sum up this entire factory.
Could sum up the Prototype too. Well, no. He’d have to judge that when he saw him.
“You ever hear about that pit full of mouths made just to eat old toys?”
…What?
He had half a mind to ring up the Prototype just to ask about THAT.
Angel slowly looked back at Giblet, who waved it off. “Eh, don’t worry about it. We got a way bigger problem running around right above us.”
Giblet turned and walked around the shelves, leading to the back corner of the hideout.
“I’m… not some kind of hero, but… I can help you. But we gotta get you outfitted first. You’re not gonna last down here with just a cheap night light.”
Angel’s little Glowby watch gave a chirp and got a dismayed look on his pixilated face.
“Yeah, chirp all you want. I’m the one who scared off all those Outimals,” Giblet called.
“It’s okay, little buddy. I believe in you,” Angel said, patting the watch’s head with his finger. The watch dinged and smiled.
“Here. The Boilers. Lots of- Huh?” Giblet noticed he wasn’t being followed. He peeked through the shelves to see Angel still standing by the window. “Lots of gear got tossed down there after the uh… You know.”
“I know.”
“Pretty sure I saw an old grabber. You, uh… You coming over here?”
Angel almost did but the chair beside him was practically screaming to him. It was like the moment he saw it, his body decided it wanted it. Bad.
“Can I just, umm… Can I sit for a second?”
Giblet pushed some stuff apart to see better. “You alright?”
“I’ve just been going non-stop. Can I…?”
“Oh yeah, sure. Go ahead. My place is yours.”
“Thanks.”
Angel slowly sat down in the chair. Cautiously, just in case his legs decided to give out two inches from the finish line. He just felt that beat up.
He really didn’t have the expendable energy anymore. He used up all his reserves getting down here. Now he was running on fumes.
And running from a whole lot of things that wanted him dead.
“…I couldn’t catch a break today.”
“Big day, I take it.” Giblet came back around to the chairs. “Not every day that you blow up part of a factory.”
“And take down the Doctor.”
“Wait, you took down the Doc?! THE Harley Sawyer?! Geez, nobody said that… Then again, I don’t think the Prototype’d want that getting out. Here, hold on a second. Lemme show you something.”
He walked over to a nearby table and brought back a piece of paper. It looked like a hand drawn newspaper page titled “A Better Press” and had crayon pictures of a burning toy pile and a surprisingly accurate depiction of Doey’s inner three heads reaching out to strike.
He skimmed it over. “Missing Toy Mystery Solved,” it said, talking about some missing toys who tried to flee the factory and were assumedly found.
“John refused to fight for us during the Hour of Joy. Spare no tears for him and the Joyless. There is no hope for us above,” said our liberator, the Prototype- it read.
So, it was THAT sort of newspaper.
Ah yes, propaganda. A useful tool for the Playtime Co of yesterday and today. Felt like something he would’ve seen floating around on the outside.
“We’re happy to announce a brand-new Playpark expansion! Disappearances? No, none of our employees disappeared. They just have air-tight NDAs to protect the children. Yes, the children. We do love those children! Continue supporting Playtime’s numerous other ventures by throwing money at us in the toy aisle,” signed Leith Pierre, the man who sold his soul on said toy aisle.
Okay, so maybe it’d be a little cleaner than that, but it never sounded authentic when it came from him. Not anymore.
Then there was the next article titled “Unsafe Haven.” It casually stated that the toys in Safe Haven were eating each other, and that Doey ate one of his parents. Just pure slander.
Punctuated by an add for popsicles at Jimmie’s Food Barn… Wait, were there actually restaurants down here too?
“It’s all a bunch of garbage,” Giblet said.
He had written “How Convenient!” with an angry face on the paper, so Angel had a hunch that was how he felt.
“Not much different than the press on the outside either,” Angel said.
“No kidding?”
“…You know, nobody outside of the factory knows what happened here. They think everyone up and vanished.”
“How? Didn’t anyone come looking…?”
“Probably. Maybe? I don’t know if there was anyone before me. I thought it too. It wasn’t until I ran into Huggy that I realized something way bigger was going on…”
He considered his next words carefully. He had already told Ollie too much and he didn’t want to do that again, but since Giblet seemed curious…
“There was a letter. To a former employee who used to work here. It said that someone was still alive down here… And I saw it, and it’s been a tough year so… I came to look.”
“So, you weren’t a worker?”
“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’.
“Figured. You’re, what, about as old as me, right? Young enough to be a- Well, you know. Didja know any workers?”
“Yup.” Popped it again.
“Whoa… So, wh-why are you doing all this?” Angel looked up with a start, like he had been accused. Giblet raised his hands defensively. “I just mean why’d you stick around? Why’d you team up with Poppy? Why didn’t you turn around why you could?”
He could’ve blamed it on Poppy, but… or the Prototype, but… That wasn’t entirely true. He chose to believe he had a little free will.
So, why did he stay?
“Because I wanted to save people.”
“That fits.”
“I guess I felt guilty… That I got out.”
“Got out? Oh- Ohhh. Gotcha.”
He didn’t, but Angel didn’t correct him.
“Makes sense that you weren’t working here. But if you weren’t… why do you feel guilty? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“…I got lucky when a lot of people didn’t.”
“You got adopted,” Giblet guessed. He had been building up to it.
“I had parents,” Angel vaguely answered. He waved his hand. “I don’t really want to get into it…”
“Oh. No, that’s fine. No problem. They, uh… still around?”
“One of ‘em is.”
“Ouch. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m good.” Change the subject before he asks too much. “Toys age?”
“Yes… and no. We age up here.” Giblet pointed to his head. “But the rest of us… There ain’t much left. ‘Specially when you’re stuck down here playing with toys and eating dead meat. Some of us get to grow up, but a lot of ‘em stay stuck in the moment they went under the knife.”
What a sad thought… Though that explained some of what he had seen. Especially with Doey.
How did that apply to Catnap? Or Poppy? Well, Giblet answered that one.
“And then there’s Poppy. She’s… She’s been in that case this whole time?” Angel nodded. “Figures… She’s older than she looks, you know. She’s been poked and prodded a lot longer than most of us. They were always trying to figure out what made her tick. Thing is… once she got in that case it’s like the world stopped. So, the war’s still fresh to her. She doesn’t know what’s happened since then. She doesn’t know what some of us had to do to survive. What we… did… went through.”
No wonder she didn’t want to return to the case. Although it sounded like she had dodged a partial bullet. She couldn’t fight in a war. She was more resilient than he gave her credit for, but she was still porcelain.
“That Poppy, she’s… She’s a sweet girl,” Giblet continued. “She deserves better than this place, and she deserves better than… This place. And…”
“She deserves better than this place?” Angel joked.
“Heh. That too.”
The two sat there in those chairs in a brief silence. There was something hanging on the air. Either Giblet gearing up to ask about Poppy or ask Angel if he was ready to go, which he wasn’t. He was still so winded. Hungry too.
But he had a fix for that. He jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the packet of crackers and cheese spread he had gotten from his last MRE. He had already eaten the candy, but he was glad he saved this.
“Want some crackers?” he offered.
“No thanks.”
“You sure? There’s cheese.”
“Huh… No, I really shouldn’t. You have it.”
Angel started to open the crackers when he stopped. He just stared at them for a long second. Thinking about the MRE, yesterday in the closet… He suddenly didn’t feel so hungry. His throat tightened.
Giblet noticed his hesitation. “What’s wrong? You see mold?”
“No, just… thinking is all. Do you have any water in here?”
“Sink’s right back there.”
Angel got up and went to walk over to the corner that was blocked with a curtain. Right as he was stepping around it, Giblet suddenly shot up.
“Wait, wait-!”
But by then Angel was already around the curtain and saw…
A small, secluded bathroom. A broken urinal, a sink with a poster over it, some trash bags on the floor. Angel was confused at why he acted like that. Was it because of the trash?
He blamed his tiredness for how long it took him to put two-and-two together. The poster on the wall- it wasn’t on the wall. It was taped or glued to where the mirror was supposed to be. A torn, deteriorated poster of a toy he had seen before from a cutout.
That small one with red fluffy fur and long ears. The one that proclaimed it would help children be brave with a wide smile.
The one that, in hindsight, looked a lot like Giblet… If he wasn’t inside out.
Oh, buddy…
Giblet noticed him looking and sighed. “Th-That’s not- that’s just… that’s nothing. That’s…”
That’s him.
“Just a piece of trash I found.”
Angel looked back quickly. “That’s not trash.”
Giblet looked so deflated with his drooped ears hung head. Angel had to fight the urge to walk over and give him a pat on the head or something. Maybe a hug. Though maybe that was pushing it when they only just met. Not everything could be fixed with a hug.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Giblet shook his head.
“That’s a-okay.”
“It’s all over anyways. Can’t go cryin’ over spilled milk,” Giblet mumbled. “Hey, I might have some more grub in the back. Give me a second to look.”
An easy excuse to get him off to the other side of the shelves. Angel gave him his space and let him go. Then he got a drink out of the tap and sat back down in the chair.
He could’ve fallen asleep there. It wouldn’t have felt good when he woke up, but he was very close to sliding down and nodding off. The one thing keeping him awake being the lack of a Grab Pack within grabbing distance.
The lack of it made him feel very unsafe. The weight of it might’ve been a burden but it was relief as well. A reminder that he had a tool to fight back with. All to have it, his flair gun, the omni-hand- Ugh, the omni-hand! A key he had to fight tooth and nail to get, and he already lost it two seconds into a tussle with Huggy Wuggy.
Needless to say, Angel was a little stressed. He set the crackers and cheese down on the table and pulled out his phone and-
WHOA. Wait, no, no. Bad idea. What was he thinking? Was he really that tired?
Apparently yes, because he had put the phone into his hand before he remembered why he wasn’t supposed to be using it.
Had he really become that dependent on Ollie? Where he just had to run and tattle to him about whatever just happened. “You’re never going to believe what happened today, Ol’! The doctor’s dead, Doey tried to beat me up, and Huggy Wuggy stole my Grab Pack.”
“Also, you’re not real and you’ve been using me to keep tabs this whole time.”
At this point, he might as well just shoot his shot and ask him to give his Grab Pack back. Odds are, Ollie might take pity on him and just drop it off somewhere outside just like… he did last time. Yup, that’s why Doey found it so easily. He suspected that.
…
Okay, so Ollie used him. Big deal. Friendship over. Get over it, Cal. It’s done with.
He should’ve known better than to start sharing confidential information to a stranger on the phone. It was so obvious in hindsight.
The jingling and tapping. The voice suddenly changing. The tone suddenly changing. Happy and cheery to bitter and cold. In a heartbeat.
Him somehow knowing details that odds are he shouldn’t have known. Getting Poppy to feed him her plan and convincing Angel to act on it.
All that time Angel sat around Safe Haven chatting with Ollie about stupid little things that didn’t matter. Was any of it real? Wishing him a good night, falling asleep listening to some silly children’s book, planting food for him to find-
It was such a good act.
He felt so real. He really thought he cared. What was the point of telling him how much he did if he didn’t?
To manipulate him, that’s why. To turn him against Poppy. To maneuver him into going along with his own plans: an elaborate scheme to kill Doey and take out Safe Haven. Because it was all fake. His angel? His puppet.
And even if he really did care in his own bizarre way… would it change anything?
…He hated that he knew it would. That’s how he got tricked in the first place. But that didn’t matter anymore, because it was over.
By all accounts Oliver was dead and Angel was in mourning.
Or at least… that’s where this train was headed. Right?
What was the point of fighting it? He couldn’t save everybody.
He couldn’t save Ollie.
He wouldn’t save the Prototype.
…
But he would eat the crackers.