Chapter Text
Your boots slapped the wet pavement as you made your way to the labs, blueprints in hand that Dr. Sawyer requested. Ventilation and filtration were running, but they required reinforcement that only stainless steel could provide—of which there was plenty to salvage; it’s simply a matter of traversing the factory’s many levels to retrieve it.
Though you didn’t mind terribly running errands for the doctor. It kept your mind and hands busy, and, while the list of items to worry about had significantly diminished since the truce was forged, that didn’t mean a lack of danger.
Rogue critters of the various toy lines still ran amok with ravenous hunger, too far gone to be reasoned with. It was a sad thing to see them collected and culled as if they were nothing more than insects scittering around an abandoned mall, but it was necessary, should those who remain hope to find safety and peace. And, of course, it would provide food to the toys and bigger bodies whose minds were still intact.
The doctor, for all his atrocities, has proven to be the new Safe Heaven’s most valuable asset in rebuilding what was left of the rubble and ash that was once a factory shrouded in shame and secrets.
Once you reached the heart of the labs, you quickly found the doctor and placed the blueprints on his makeshift desk.
“Ah, there you are. No trouble navigating the upper levels for these?”
“No trouble—just time. I’ve navigated them before, but that doesn’t make them less of a labyrinth,” you said, pulling up a chair and taking a load off.
Reaching for your canteen, you noticed upon opening it that your water was once again running low. You muttered a curse under your breath. While the labs did have water, none of it had been filtered enough for you to drink safely yet. So, instead, anytime you were thirsty, you’d need to fire up a Bunsen burner and boil water to get rid of whatever god-forsaken bacteria growing in it.
You were grateful, however, that there was a way to acquire clean water down here at all. For you, and for all of the toys trapped here.
“All the more reason to make haste with filtration reinforcement. Better metal. Faster results,” Dr. Sawyer remarked upon noticing your disdainful look towards your canteen.
“Not that I mind using a chemistry set to purify what I drink. It takes me back in a way. Reminds me of school.”
“Well, with any luck, assuming we stay on schedule, repairs should be complete within the next month. The only hurdle, of course…is…him.”
Him.
Yes.
He who hasn’t shown his round face and set smile in Safe Heaven since signing off on their truce.
He who could be lurking around close to the boundary between his part of the factory and their part of the factory.
The Prototype.
“I must confess, I’m still curious as to what you could have possibly said to him in confidence to make him even consider dropping his malicious plans—let alone signing a truce with the lifeforms left down here,” Dr. Sawyer said, glancing your way, wondering if you’d divulge those details just by him mentioning the conversation.
“Just be glad it’s over,” you sighed, whipping the sweat from your forehead. While grateful for the doctor's help, his insistence and scientific prowess had gotten on your nerves.
“For now,” he replied. “It’s a fool’s notion to think he wouldn’t turn on us at any moment.”
“A fool’s, or just someone too cynical to see that not everyone who’s done bad things are bad people,” you looked directly at the doctor as you spoke—indirectly implying his own actions against countless lives as well.
“Yes, well…” the doctor faltered, but only for a moment before regaining his composure and offering parting words before strutting off to another area in the lab. “Best of luck to you out there, Butcher.”
You rolled your eyes at that moniker. Some are calling you Butcher—others Poppy’s Angel. You never cared for either. Both imply a level of living on a pedestal you were never comfortable with.
As today’s chores came to a close, you attended one final reconnaissance meeting with Poppy, along with Giblet, Kissy, Huggy, and Dr. Sawyer. The doctor had mentioned that in order to finalize their filtration and allow for free-flowing, clean water to run, they’d need some very specialized valves and bolt sizes that could only be found past where the invisible boundary had been drawn.
“Can’t we use another part from a machine closer to us? A gear from a train in the Game Station won’t work? Or maybe some of the gears from the car on Sweet Street?” Poppy asked, pitching anything in hopes she wouldn’t need to send anyone past where the boundary lies.
“Unfortunately, as our projects progress, so will their needs. We don’t have many others left down here, but if you want your oh-so-precious quality of life for them, clean water is everything, be it for living toy or human,” countered the doctor.
You sat between them, hearing every point each made. Unfortunately, it wasn’t sounding like the tools Dr. Sawyer needed were anywhere within the bounds of where they set up the new Safe Heaven.
Someone had to go.
Someone had to tread into his territory.
“We bear no ill will, right?” you perked up between them.
Poppy raised a brow. “Well, of course not, but he may not—”
“Then we shouldn’t have to be afraid. The treaty states that ‘under dire circumstances, a single individual from one side of the boundary may cross into the others to retrieve what they need, and then leave’, yes? The Prototype knows this.”
The mention of his very name in the room elicited tremors to shake Kissy Missy, tilting her head to the side in residual fear of her past encounters with Experiment 1006. Huggy was quick to react, looping both arms around her to soothe.
Poppy wasn’t to pleased at even the sheer sound of his name either, but you had frankly had enough.
“Listen. Everyone here has a right to be afraid of him. Hell, you don’t think I’m quaking in my boots at the idea of walking in unarmed to his neck of the woods? But if I let fear control me, would we even be here right now? Would we even have a truce?”
Poppy and the doctor glanced at each other, mulling your words over in their minds.
“The parts you need would be in a heavily restricted area—more difficult to get to even if the factory weren’t in ruins. What if you take too long? What if you linger and he mistakes that for disrespect?” Poppy poses the question out of equal parts concern and fear.
You were her saving grace in all of this, and she hasn’t forgotten all you’ve done. You’re certain she’d hate herself if anything happened to you, but what other options do you have?
“If I’m in his land—his territory—he’ll know that it’s because we’re in need of something we can only find there. He will know. He signed the truce treaty just as the rest of us did.”
“The Butcher has a point,” Dr. Sawyer chimed in. “Logic dictates that as he was there for the reading, revision, and signing of our truce—laying eyes and ears on all it entails—the need for fear of one’s life in his domain is negated.”
“Exactly,” you said, throwing out a go at confidence. “It will be ok, Poppy.”
“Ok. No, you’re right. You’re right,” the living doll sighed.
“Besides, it’s obvious who’s going to retrieve what we need,” you said.
All heads in the room turned to you, some relieved, some concerned, and some a mix of the two.
“I don’t expect any of you to face the person who tormented you for over a decade—not unless you’d be ready to. Not unless you’d volunteer.”
Silence hugged the meeting room, all voices and seemingly thoughts snuffed out.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll leave just before daybreak to give myself enough time there and back. Meeting adjourned.”
As you filtered out of the room, it was Kissy who stopped you and gently pulled you aside. That action alone spoke volumes any words from her ever would.
“I know,” you said, patting the side of her pink, fuzzy arm. “But this isn’t about me—this has never been about me. This is about you—all of you. If you can’t go back up to the surface for a normal life, I’m in part responsible to make sure you can all live out your lives here—safely, comfortably.”
Kissy emitted a small ‘scree’, wordlessly voicing her worry. Her only arm left slipped around your back, leaning in for a hug. You smiled softly, admiring how someone who had gone through such horrors could still, at the end of the day, show pure, unbridled love and concern for others.
And you didn’t say it, but you needed the hug just as much as she did.
“I’ll be ok, Kissy,” you reassured, patting her soft fur. “I’m the one who spoke to him just before signing our treaty, remember? He knows I wouldn’t forsake what we’ve worked for just as much as you do.”
With a reluctant growl, Kissy withdrew and, with a parting glance, strode off to her room.
Upon returning to your makeshift room, you fell flat on the mattress, your body sagging along with gravity at the weight of the day’s work. While tomorrow won’t be as physically strenuous, it certainly won’t be a cake walk.
Yes, The Prototype knows the clauses of the truce treaty just as well as you. Yes, he signed it. However, no one has heard a word from or seen him since.
Turning over in your mattress, you suppose you could understand what he may be thinking: how no one past my side of the factory would want anything to do with me…or maybe Poppy’s cautionary woes held some ground. Maybe he was building an army. Maybe Poppy was right to be afraid of his absence.
A yawn interrupted your thoughts. Whatever the next eight to ten hours held, you were certainly too tired to lie there and comprehend them all.