Chapter Text
“So we all agree that we need to figure out a way to bring Doey and The Resistance to Playcare, right?” John says to his friends.
“Absolutely,” DogDay replies from his corner of the security room. In the other corner, Kissy responds with a thumbs up, and from the makeshift bed, Cat-Bee meows affirmatively.
“However we do it, we should do it soon,” says Poppy, sitting on the desk with her tiny legs dangling from the edge. “Their generator is barely functioning as it is. Let’s get them here before it shuts down for good.”
John nods. “Glad we’re all on the same page. So, here’s the plan: I’m thinking a group of us should head into the underground and escort The Resistance from their base to the elevator. Since I’m already familiar with the layout, I think it’s best if I lead—”
Poppy raises a firm hand, signaling him to stop.
“I’m gonna stop you right there, John. You can’t be a part of the escort.”
“If this is about what happened last week, then I would like to argue that I’ve recovered since then. I swear I’m not pushing myself.”
“Need I remind you that you’re currently lacking a Grabpack? Without that, you’ll be more of a hindrance than you would be helpful. No offense.”
“None taken...”
He’d nearly forgotten that he no longer has his Grabpack, having abandoned it in the underground while rescuing an unconscious CatNap. It’s absence did not go unnoticed. There were a few embarrassing moments where he aimed a nonexistent Grabpack Hand towards something out of habit, only to realize he didn’t have it. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel more vulnerable, even though he’s gone the majority of his life without one.
“I don’t mind going,” DogDay chimes in. “I may not be able to offer much in terms of strength, but I’m confident I can help bring The Resistance to safety if need be. I’ve also been told I have great tracking skills.”
Kissy appears to be on board as well, gesturing as if to say I’m in. Which is a relief considering she’s the strongest one out of all of them.
“I’ll lead the escort,” says Poppy. “So that’s me, DogDay, and Kissy. Cat-Bee, you should stay in case John needs help with Playcare. Any objections?”
Everyone shakes their heads. It’s a risky plan, but considering how limited they are in resources, it’s the only the option they have. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It’s not that he thinks his friends are weak—the fact that they’ve survived so long in this cruel and unforgiving environment is proof that they’re anything but—but it’s one thing to face danger alongside them, and another thing to watch from the sidelines. At least if they had a bigger group, he’d feel slightly more at ease.
As if reading his thoughts, Poppy speaks again.
“It would be ideal if we had more teammates available to escort. Even just one extra person would be nice, someone strong and intimidating...”
“That would be nice,” says John, “but I doubt anyone else would be willing to volunteer, sadly.”
Poppy taps her chin, humming, until a lightbulb seems to appear above her head. She turns to John with a look that tells him whatever idea has just occurred to her has the potential to cause trouble. Or in other words, John is destined for a headache.
“Well... there is one person we can ask,” says Poppy. The gears in his brain turn slowly before realization dawns on him.
“You mean—”
A loud thud interrupts their conversation as something slams against the outside of the security door. John whips his head towards the monitors. A Mini CatNap appears right outside the office, briefly stunned by what sounded like a failed attempt at charging into the room. The plushie shakes it off and begins pawing at the door urgently, his muffled whining audible from the other side.
John gets up and opens the door. Mini CatNap hurriedly enters the room, then immediately begins to jump up and down in front of John, whining incessantly. The unexpected sight of a panicking Mini Critter catches him off guard.
“Whoa, hey—what’s wrong?”
“Um, Angel?” DogDay’s expression is worried as he points towards something over John’s shoulder. “You may want to look at the monitors...”
John turns around. At first, all he sees is a few dots crawling out from the Gas Production Zone into the Main Area of Playcare. Then he realizes those dots are toys. Feral toys. Nightmare Critters, Mini Huggies, more—a tsunami seconds away from crashing into a peaceful island. Dread sinks in his stomach.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“It’s a surprise attack.” Poppy is already on her feet, a look fear mixed with protectiveness etched onto her features. “We have to stop them!”
“Shit. Right, let’s—we should go now.”
The five of them—six, he realizes, as the Mini CatNap who warned them tags along—rush to Playcare.
It’s chaos by the time they arrive.
A full-on invasion of feral toys running rampant all throughout Playcare. They knock over trash cans, rip apart signs, trample over picnic blankets. Worse than that, the nonviolent toys are randomly being attacked by the feral, causing fear to spread like wildfire.
John forces his body into action. He finds a conveniently placed metal baseball bat and rushes towards the closest victim being attacked. A ragdoll makes a noise of distress as a Mini Baba Chops tears through her leg with sharp retractable teeth, nearly ripping it off as she drags her backwards. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, John swings the bat hard against the black sheep, knocking her through the air while freeing the ragdoll.
“Hey, over here!” Poppy is waving her arms as she stands on top of an umbrella. About a dozen feral toys turn towards her, falling for the bait. She proceeds to lure them away, moving expertly across high platforms and small spaces to avoid getting caught.
Meanwhile, Kissy is disabling as many as she can, knocking them down like bowling pins with the sweep of her arms. DogDay runs through the field, scooping up the injured before bringing them to safety as quickly as possible. Cat-Bee is hidden away near John, hissing whenever a feral toy gets too close.
All of them are working together to defend against the overwhelming attack.
But even with their combined efforts, the sheer number of intruders causes them to struggle.
John focuses all his energy on swinging the bat, dodging whenever a feral toy attempts to leap at him. Seconds feel like hours, his arms aching, sweat rolling down his temple. He tries to locate his friends amidst the chaos, but any attempt at catching his breath is interrupted by another victim screaming for help, or a nasty growl from a hungry toy aimed at him.
“This is getting real old real fast!” John shouts, anger present despite the fear of what’s happening and the fact that some of them might not come out of this alive and the potential that everything could go horribly wrong within a matter of moments.
Then the air shifts.
Suddenly, red smoke appears from somewhere above, slowly descending into Playcare.
It doesn’t take long for John to notice it coming from the direction of Home Sweet Home. He grabs Cat-Bee and hurries over to a safe spot behind the center statue. Bodies begin to drop like flies. Every single one of the feral toys falls victim to the effects of the red smoke, passing out within seconds of inhaling it. Some attempt to resist but to no avail. Then eventually, they all stop moving.
Playcare becomes still.
Once the smoke begins to clear, John looks peaks out from behind the statue, Cat-Bee tucked safely against his chest. He can see his friends coming out of their own safe spots, relief sinking into his shoulders. When he looks up, he sees the silhouette of CatNap standing on the rooftop of Home Sweet Home, the remnants of red smoke floating from his gaping mouth.
It’s over. John crouches down, carefully releasing Cat-Bee back onto the ground. His hands are shaking as he clutches the now bloodied baseball bat—it’ll go away soon enough, it always does. For now, he heads over to Home Sweet Home, eyes settled on CatNap as he leaps off the rooftop, landing gracefully onto the ground.
The Mini CatNap from earlier is there, practically buzzing with excitement as he approaches his much larger lookalike. It’s clear that the plushie is waiting for CatNap’s approval as he gazes up at him expectantly. CatNap is stoic, a statue as he stares down at the smaller toy. He doesn’t look the least bit impressed—if anything, he looks displeased, as if the plushie were an insect that he accidentally stepped on.
Without warning, CatNap snatches up the Mini Critter with a single paw, eliciting a startled yelp from the plushie.
“Failure.”
His paw squeezes, sharp claws just barely sinking into skin. Mini CatNap whimpers. Alarmed, John drops the baseball bat and rushes over, then immediately grabs the plushie from CatNap’s paw, holding him protectively.
“Hey, knock it off! He didn’t do anything wrong!”
CatNap huffs, annoyed but from the looks of it, not bloodthirsty, to John’s relief.
“His warning came too late. He was distracted.”
“At least he still tried. You shouldn’t be so hard on him.”
John begins absentmindedly stroking Mini CatNap’s head. In response, the plushie lights up, reveling in the attention he’s being given. Meanwhile, CatNap watches with an odd gaze, his tail flickering with agitation—for what, John isn’t entirely sure.
It’s then that Kissy arrives with Poppy riding her shoulder. At the same time, DogDay appears from the opposite end. They look slightly frazzled, but otherwise okay.
“Is anyone hurt?” Poppy worriedly scans over their bodies. “Any head injuries, bleeding, or broken bones?”
“All good here,” says John.
“Still intact,” says DogDay.
At that, Poppy heaves a sigh of relief.
“Good. Kissy and I are gonna go treat the injured. If anyone needs us, we’ll be in The Counselor’s Office.”
She doesn’t wait for a response before heading off with Kissy, leaving John, CatNap, and DogDay to their own devices. And Mini CatNap.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” DogDay turns to John, eyes searching for any signs of injury or distress. It’s touching to see how much the canine cares about him.
“Physically? I’m good, nothing serious. Mentally I’m a little scarred, but oh well, what’s one more trauma, right?”
It’s spoken as a dark joke, something to ease the tension. Thankfully, it works, and he’s rewarded with DogDay fondly shaking his head.
“You have a strong soul. I commend you for your ability to stay in good spirits despite everything.” DogDay turns to gaze at the Counselor’s Office, his expression turning solemn. “A few of our friends didn’t make it. I tried to rescue as many as I could, but the attack was so sudden, and there were so many, I couldn’t…”
“Not your fault,” says John. “You did the best you could.”
DogDay makes a noncommittal noise, his gaze still distant. John carefully sets Mini CatNap down, ignoring his whines of protest, then steps closer to DogDay. He opens up his arms in offering. Hug? There’s a look of surprise in DogDay’s features. Soon his expression becomes softer, a look that speaks of warmth and longing, as if the concept of being held was one he sorely missed.
DogDay proceeds to crouch down so that they’re equal in height, his movements slow and hesitant. John wastes no time wrapping his arms around the canine, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. He’s as warm as he is furry, John thinks, and his scent reminds him of the ice cream he used to get from the truck during summertime back when he was a kid.
DogDay is stiff for a moment, but quickly relaxes, his own arms wrapping around John, firm but gentle. John continues to hold him, feeling the canine’s heartbeat, the way his breath falters a bit, like he’s simultaneously relaxed yet overwhelmed.
“This okay?” John asks, his hand still rubbing slowly against his back.
“Yes. This is—I needed this. Thank you, Angel.”
“Always happy to help, bud.”
As John and DogDay share a moment, decompressing after the stress of the unexpected invasion, CatNap observes them from the sidelines, oddly quiet. Eventually, they release each other before pulling away. DogDay seems more at ease now, offering John one more look of appreciation before moving on.
“Right, I suppose we ought to figure out our next move.”
John glances over at the yard filled with destruction and toy bodies, either dead or unconscious. His limbs ache with the thought of cleaning it all up.
“How long do you think they’ll remain asleep?” He turns to CatNap, who he had nearly forgotten was there, having not said a word since his friends arrived.
“A while.”
“Long enough that we don’t have to deal with them right away?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That gives us some time to brainstorm. I think it’s best if we figure out a way to prevent future invasions; seems like something we should tackle sooner rather than later.”
At this, CatNap steps forward, almost as if he had already been thinking about strategies to implement against the enemy.
“We should increase our defenses.”
“Oh? What kind of defenses did you have in mind?”
“Beartraps.”
John winces.
“Ah, that’s um—that might be a little unsafe, don’t you think?”
“That is its intended purpose.”
“It’s too dangerous,” DogDay argues. “What if someone on our side accidentally gets hurt? We can’t just leave deadly traps lying around.”
“It will deter the enemy.”
“That’s not the point, and besides, it’s John’s decision. If he thinks it’s too unsafe then who are we to argue?”
“Do you propose we remain defenseless?”
“I propose we protect ourselves in a way that doesn’t backfire.”
“Foolish Mutt—”
“Don’t call me that—”
“Alright, alright,” John intervenes, feeling the tension rise between CatNap and DogDay, the two of them practically standing face to face. “How about this—let’s try setting up an alarm system. That’ll help increase our defenses while at the same time, no one gets hurt.”
“Sounds good to me,” DogDay agrees.
“Great. CatNap?”
CatNap says nothing, eyeing John with discontentment.
“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s not that bad of an idea, is it?”
No response.
John bends down and picks up Mini CatNap, raising him into the air like one would a toddler they were showing off.
“Mini you is on board with it. See?”
The plushie is oblivious to their conversation, too preoccupied with the joy of being held by John, a gleeful noise escaping him. CatNap is completely immune to the cuteness, looking at John and the plushie with what John imagines is a deadpanned expression. With a grumble, CatNap walks past them, ignoring their existence as he heads somewhere else.
“He’ll come around,” John says to Mini CatNap. He’s not sure if the plushie agrees, but he seems happy, nonetheless.
Within several hours, John creates a rather unconventional alarm system featuring one key item: Noisy Nannies. A discontinued line of toys designed as little adults with various voice lines lecturing children. It was the company’s attempt at appealing to children through humor and the relatability of having nagging caretakers. Ironically, the toys were discontinued once parents began to complain, not for making fun of guardians, but because the toys were too loud.
He starts by tweaking the Noisy Nannies to amplify the sound and adjust the pitch, resulting in them sounding less like a talking toy and more like a constant siren blaring. He proceeds to set it up in The Counselor’s Office with a rope and lever, creating a simple mechanism to activate the alarm should there be any sign of danger.
All the while, CatNap and DogDay follow him, an unspoken tension floating between them. The former is mostly quiet, expressing his unhappiness via body language, if the unsubtle glares and flickering tail are any indication. DogDay, to his credit, tries to ignore the hostility radiating from CatNap and continues to interact with John, occasionally passing him tools and helping him set up the alarms in each building.
It’s awkward, but at least they’re tolerating each other. That’s progress, right?
He should have known the peace wouldn’t last.
“This is pointless.” CatNap watches impatiently as John climbs a ladder somewhere in the main hallway of The School. “A useless noise-making device will do nothing to stop your enemies from attacking.”
John’s focus is split between screwing the Noisy Nanny into the ceiling and dealing with CatNap’s stubbornness.
“You’re right, it won’t. But at least we’ll be better prepared should another attack happen. Besides, this is only the first step—we can always add more security later.”
“There may not be a later.”
John heaves a sigh, stopping to wipe the sweat from his forehead while his other hand continues to hold the alarm up against the ceiling.
“If you really wanna set up traps, then we can do that, but it has to be something non-lethal.”
CatNap rolls his eyes.
“Must you insist on pacifism?”
“We know by now that violence doesn’t solve anything.” There’s weariness in DogDay’s voice, like he’s been fighting this battle of ideology for many years. “All it’s ever done is make things worse.”
“Only for the weak.”
It’s those words that put John on edge, the tension spiking in the room. He can sense DogDay’s patience thinning, shoulders squared and eyes glaring at CatNap.
“My friends are not weak.”
“And yet you continue to lose. Had John not arrived, your allies would have fallen completely.”
“Is that what you think, or is that something The Prototype drilled into you?”
“The Prototype offered us true freedom. You were too afraid to accept it.”
“Don’t start with this again. I don’t care what you say—what he did wasn’t justified.”
John carefully climbs down the ladder, watching nervously as the two of them go back and forth. A part of him wants to interfere, to mediate before it gets out of hand, but at the same time, they need to communicate. If not now, then when? They’re never going to reach closure if they continue ignoring each other. This is an opportunity for them to resolve their issues, even if it comes at the cost of saying some hurtful things.
Bystander, John reminds himself. You’re just a bystander. Let them work it out themselves.
“So we do nothing.” At some point during the conversation, CatNap began standing up on two legs, looking down at DogDay with scorn. DogDay doesn’t back down—he seems frustrated, perhaps more than John has ever seen from the friendly canine.
“I never said that we should do nothing!”
“Yet you fail to offer any solutions. Your lack of action is your worse trait, Mutt.”
“Unbelievable...”
John clears his throat, figuring now is a good time to interrupt before their argument turns into an actual brawl.
“Look, I know you both have different opinions on how we should approach this situation—both of them are valid. Let’s just try to focus on working together, yeah?”
CatNap sneers.
“I refuse.”
DogDay heaves a long-suffering sigh, arms crossing over his chest.
“I’m sorry, Angel, but I don't see the two of us being able to get along. We’re too—different.”
The words sound defeated. He gets the impression that they’re both caught up in their own emotions, angry and confused and sad, neither of them too sure how to navigate these feelings until they’re left with no choice but to become defensive—to protect themselves. If that’s the case, then he doubts what they’re saying is sincere.
“Didn’t you used to get along before?” says John. “What changed? I mean, the two of you were best friends once. That has to mean something to you.”
Those words seem to do the trick. A flash of something—surprise, hope, regret—passes through CatNap and DogDay. They look at each other for a brief moment before awkwardly looking away. Still, John doesn’t miss the longing he saw just now. It may be small, but it’s progress.
Shortly after, they finish setting up the alarm in The School, then proceed to make their way to the final building: The Playhouse. They're approaching the circus tent when DogDay’s footsteps slow to a halt, eyes gazing up at the building with unease.
“I think I’m gonna sit this one out...” DogDay declares. John doesn’t blame him—if he were in his position, he wouldn’t want to step foot back in this place either, not after being tortured and imprisoned.
“Yeah, of course,” John replies, understanding. “I’ll finish this last one as soon as possible.”
While DogDay waits outside, John and CatNap proceed to enter The Playhouse. It’s still as creepy as he remembers, this place. Thankfully the Mini Critters aren’t as hostile as they were before, but the environment still unnerves him.
“I’m pretty sure I cried in one of these indoor playgrounds once when I was a kid,” John says as he carefully climbs through a tube. “It was at a restaurant, though I can’t remember the name. All I know is that I got lost in the tubes that day and started screaming for my parents to come find me. I was terrified.”
“Many children were afraid of getting lost,” CatNap squeezes in the tube behind him, fitting easily despite his size. “When that happened, I would find them and bring them back out.”
“Really? That was nice of you. I ended up finding my way out eventually, but still, I was pretty shaken. I remember running to my dad to tell him about what happened.”
“Your parents were with you?”
“Mhm. They were eating in the dining room while I played. When dad saw me crying, he said I needed to toughen up and face my fears. He wanted me to go back to the playground.”
“Did you?”
“Nah, I ended up hiding in the restroom until my parents were done eating. After that, I started to avoid places that were tight and cluttered, until eventually I grew out of it.”
John reaches a slide. He tucks his supplies against his chest and slides down until his feet reach the bottom. CatNap follows suit, sliding down on his stomach until his front paws reach the floor. They continue forward.
“It’s funny how fear works sometimes,” John continues thoughtfully. “Like, I knew in that moment that I wasn’t really trapped—there had to be an exit. But all I could think about was this feeling of suffocation, like I wasn’t getting enough air, and I kept imagining that the walls were going to close around me.”
“The thoughts were too loud.”
The words throw him off at first, his brain uncomprehending. Then it occurs to him what CatNap is trying to say. John swallows, feeling a wave of—something. A tender feeling, like he’s connecting with CatNap in a way that he hasn’t up until now.
“Yeah, the thoughts were really loud.” John’s voice is quiet, almost shaky. “It took me a while before I could even begin to find my way out. I just wish—I don’t know. I wish my dad hadn’t reacted the way he did. I know he just wants what’s best for me; he’s always been a tough love kind of guy. But I felt so alone in that tunnel. I really wanted them to come find me and I was so afraid that if I ventured out again, I would suffocate.”
“I would have found you.”
John assumes he’s being mocked and proceeds to snort.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I would have.”
He looks over at CatNap. White eyes gaze back at him, serious and unrelenting. It surprises him seeing this protective side of the feline, but then again, it also doesn’t. Maybe he has a soft spot for kids?
Finally, they reach the center of The Playhouse. Unlike the other buildings, it’s more difficult to reach the very top of the tent. John looks around for something to use, another ladder or a staircase. He finds nothing.
“Damn, really wish I had my Grabpack right about now.” He sighs, scratching his head as he tries to come up with a solution. It’s then that he feels a tug on the bottom of his pants. He looks down to see Mini CatNap staring up at him—the same one from earlier, from the looks of it.
“Oh, hey there. Did you wanna help?”
The plushie nods eagerly. John attaches the rope to the last Noisy Nanny before strapping it onto Mini CatNap’s back. Once he ties the rope to the lever, he instructs Mini CatNap to attach it somewhere on the ceiling. Mini CatNap does so with ease, crawling up to the ceiling and fixing the alarm into a secure spot. Afterwards, Mini CatNap plops back down to the floor.
“Good job, bud.” John scoops him up, rewarding him with several pats on the head. He chuckles as Mini CatNap eagerly nudges his head against his palm, encouraging John to pet him. Cute. “Maybe you little anker biters aren’t as bad as I thought. You’re kinda growing on me.”
He doesn’t notice CatNap watching them intensely. Only when he hears the sound of something shrinking does John turn around. He sees CatNap standing in front of him on two feet, only he’s smaller. Fun-sized. CatNap is still looking at him, like he’s waiting for something, paws clenched by his sides while his tail swishes back and forth.
John can only stare, his mind blank. He’s only ever seen CatNap shrink once back when he got hurt underground. Clearly he isn’t hurt. Is he missing something?
“Uh, everything alright? You’re looking kind of... small.”
CatNap’s tail stops swishing, his body appearing to freeze. If John didn’t know any better, he’d say the feline almost looked embarrassed.
He doesn’t get the chance to question it before CatNap whirls around and suddenly storms off without a word. John is left standing there, flabbergasted.
What just happened?
Jealousy burns in CatNap’s core as he quickly navigates towards the entrance of The Playhouse. Foolish. Why on earth did he shrink? In front of John? He knows why, but to admit it would be humiliating. Being envious of a Mini Critter is absurd. And yet, seeing John speak to the plushie so fondly, praising him for his success—it struck CatNap how much he craved that.
It was a pathetic attempt at stealing John’s attention, of having that praise aimed at him and not that mindless plush toy. But it didn’t work, leaving him to feel like an utter fool. A child desperate for attention. It shouldn’t matter what John thinks; he’s just a stupid man. Or at least, that’s what he used to think.
An itch steadily grows beneath his skin as CatNap hurries out of the circus tent. He tries to ignore it, but all he can think about is John, the way he held the Mini Critter protectively, like he was precious, like he was worthy, like—
“CatNap?”
His muscles tense. He looks up to see DogDay staring down at him with shock. CatNap had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he had forgotten DogDay was outside of The Playhouse, waiting for John.
“Why are you small? Are you hurt?” There’s concern in DogDay’s voice. It worsens his agitation. He quickly grows back to his usual size, towering over the canine until he’s forced to tilt his head backwards to meet his gaze.
“I am not weak.”
CatNap is already moving past him before DogDay can reply. He hears the canine sigh somewhere behind him, barely catching his next words.
“That’s not what I meant...”
Rather than heading back to his hidden room in the upper floors, CatNap makes his way towards The Counselor’s Office. He’s met with a line of injured toys standing outside of a medical room, waiting to be seen by the doll. When CatNap approaches, the toys immediately scamper off into hiding.
He steps through the doorway and finds the doll patching up a jack-in-the-box while the pink one assists her. The jack-in-the-box takes one look at CatNap, then immediately ducks back into his compartment like a turtle hiding in the shell. The doll blinks before realizing CatNap is there, and only then does she notice her line of patients have all run away.
“Not again,” the doll groans. CatNap ignores her disappointment as he walks over to her.
“Where is your food supply being stored?”
The doll frowns.
“What? Why?”
“Just tell me.”
“Not gonna happen. Not unless you tell me what it is that you’re up to.”
Annoyance stirs within his being. He’s struck with the urge to separate the doll’s head from her body, to watch the life drain from her eyes. He couldn’t care less if the pink one is there; he’ll devour her too. Anyone who dares get in his way deserves to be punished.
Nonetheless, he manages to suppress his violent urge, choosing instead to leave the medical room without another word. If the doll refuses to help, then so be it. He’ll find the storage room himself.
He’ll prove himself worthy.