Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a split second decision. 

He was cornered. After fending off CatNap and his hallucinations for god knows how long, John was beginning to push towards his limit. Sweat builds on his skin, his heart pounds in his chest, red smoke constantly fills his lungs. With each passing second, his chances of survival grow slimmer. Adrenaline and pure willpower were the only things standing between him and death. 

Death being the colorless beast slowly creeping towards him. 

He’s not sure how long it lasted, but at some point, CatNap must have gotten tired of the games. Before he knows it, the feline is swiftly entering from the hatch above. Bottomless black eyes stare down at him, a mouth too wide somehow becoming even wider. Hungrier. He raises his paw, ready to pounce. But John’s got a plan. Before CatNap can attack, he launches the electrified green hand directly towards him. 

The sight that comes next is gruesome. CatNap screeches as he accidentally sets himself on fire, undoubtedly in pain as he rolls around the floor. John could only watch in shock and horror, memories flashing through his mind—red staining metal as Huggy Wuggy bashes his head against the pipes right before falling to his death—a pink body squashing open like a grape as Mommy Long Legs desperately tries to escape the shredder. And now there was CatNap, writhing on the floor in pain, and upon witnessing this, two thoughts seem to battle in his mind: It had to be done versus I did this.  

Then he sees it. 

A mechanical claw with spindly fingers, lowering from the ceiling. The same claw that appeared right after Mommy Long Legs’ death, dragging her lifeless corpse away. The Prototype.  

CatNap scrambles backwards, as if in shame. Only when he realizes The Prototype is offering his hand does the feline pause.  

John’s stomach drops. He knows where this is going. 

As if in a trance, CatNap raises himself to his knees, spreading his arms open in worship before his deity. The Prototype is gathering his fingers into a sharp point, preparing to strike. CatNap doesn’t move. Something almost peaceful surrounds the toy cat, and it’s then that John understands what he’s witnessing: acceptance 

He moves before he can think. 

A split second before the claw could stab through CatNap’s mouth, John throws his entire weight towards him, successfully knocking him out of the way. There’s a crash as they both hit the floor ungracefully. The Prototype seems to pause, likely not expecting that. It seems none of the parties in the room had anticipated what John just did, John included. Realizing how close they are, John scrambles away before CatNap has a chance to recover from being stunned. He quickly returns his attention to the claw above. 

The Prototype is silent. Despite lacking a face, it somehow appears to be calculating something. Then slowly, as if it were never there to begin with, the claw mysteriously disappears back through the hatch. 

John and CatNap both watch it disappear before looking at each other. 

The air is thick with tension. 

John feels hyperaware of everything—his labored breathing, the sweat rolling down his temple, the blood rushing through his ears. Yet despite being aware of it all, his main focus is on the giant purple cat staring at him from across the room. CatNap is eerily unresponsive, his heavy breathing the only indication that he isn't a statue. It appears that CatNap is still in shock, at least for a moment before something changes: his back slowly straightens, claws scraping against the ground, his singed fur nearly standing on end. That smiling face never changes, but he can feel it—the anger and hatred radiating from him. 

Anxiety crawls beneath his skin as he watches CatNap struggling to climb to his feet.  

“How… dare… you…” CatNap’s voice is as low and ominous as the first time he heard it, syllables dragging like lambs to a slaughterhouse. “How dare you interfere?”  

John seems to snap out of whatever state of shock he was in, putting aside his fear in favor of disbelief.

“Seriously? I just saved your life!” 

“I do not need your help. You pesky little rat.”  

John snarls. Before he can stop it, words fall from his mouth.

“You’d rather give up your life for someone who doesn’t give a shit about you? The Prototype isn’t your savior, he’s using you—” 

There’s no time to react before CatNap pounces forward. John yelps as four sharp claws knock him into to the floor. Fear and pain overrides any other emotion he may have felt in that moment, including frustration. 

He looks up to see CatNap looming above with that menacing gaze, and for a moment he thinks: this is it, this is how he dies. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. He can picture it now on his tombstone, and were his situation not so pitiful, he may have actually chuckled at the absurd imagery. All he can do now is wait for the pain to begin.  

But CatNap doesn’t kill him. 

He only stares. 

Then— 

“Get out.”  

That’s all he needs to hear. 

John scrambles to his feet before fleeing the Safe Room. A million thoughts race through his mind but he squashes them down to focus instead on survival. CatNap surprisingly doesn’t chase him, though he isn’t sure if he’s purposefully letting him go or if he’s too weak to hunt him down. 

One thing remains certain: he barely escaped death. 

After returning to the Gas Production Zone, John finally inserts the blue battery into the console and diverts the red smoke, successfully powering the area. 

The job is done. 

A weight seems to lift off his chest, the relief of having narrowly escaped yet another life-threatening situation. He glances down at the scratches on his chest, realizing that they’re bleeding through his shirt. 

God, I hope I don’t need stitches  

He’s gained a decent amount of cuts and bruises throughout his horror-filled journey in Playtime Co.’s factory, but nothing seriously detrimental. He carefully lifts his shirt, wincing as the fabric brushes against the cuts, causing it to sting. Four parallel lines have been cut across his chest, though they don’t appear to be too deep. At worst it becomes infected, at best it becomes a scar. 

As if he weren’t scarred enough by this place. 

And with that thought comes the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Suddenly, the stress of everything that’s happened comes crashing down. Being chased by Huggy Wuggy through the vents, being forced to play Mommy Long Legs’ twisted games before then getting chased by her. Miss Delight, the Mini Critters, DogDay. He’s been put through Hell since the moment he entered this place. 

Then there’s CatNap, arguably the most terrifying of them all. 

He’s the creature who stalked him throughout Playcare, peeking behind corners and ducking through vents. The one responsible for putting him to sleep, giving him nightmares of endless corridors and haunting screams. Each boss he’s faced is terrifying in their own right, but CatNap evokes a different kind of fear, one more sadistic compared to Huggy Wuggy’s brutality and Mommy Long Legs’ blind rage. Killing him wasn’t enough—CatNap wanted to break him. 

And John just saved him. 

A hysterical laugh escapes his mouth as he falls to his knees. Is this it, has he finally lost his mind? Succumbed to the insanity that is this place, filled with horrors such as orphaned children being used as scientific experiments? Is this his life?  

He could practically hear his father mocking him now: “Should have stayed in college,” he would say. Well screw you, Dad. No one told him that failing to obtain his bachelor’s degree would result in him fighting for his life in a factory filled with cannibalistic toys. Maybe he should have settled for his mother’s advice instead: a beautiful wife and kids, would that have kept him from ending up here? But what if his kids want toys? God no, he’d rather let them play with sticks than bring another damn Huggy Wuggy into his house, and wow, what a lousy father he’s turning out to be, he can’t even bring his own kids some toys because he’s so traumatized, what a useless piece of—  

“Is… this a bad time?” 

He looks up to see Poppy standing on a shelf near a vent, looking at him with a worried expression on her face. There’s a red VHS tape in her arms, but that’s not important right now—what’s important is that he had just been caught in the middle of what was very obviously a mental breakdown.

Embarrassed, he slowly rises to his feet. “No, I’m… I’m fine. Sorry." 

“It’s okay. I get it.” Poppy’s face softens with empathy. Her gaze then falls to the scratches on his chest. “You’re hurt…” 

“It’s nothing. What’s that in your hand?” 

Poppy frowns, not missing the way he downplayed his injury before quickly changing the subject. She sighs wearily, her tiny shoulders sinking. 

“There’s something I want to show you. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know the truth. But before I show you this tape, I have to ask… why did you do it?” 

His body tenses. There it is—the elephant in the room. She doesn't need to specify for him to know what she’s talking about, but he decides to play dumb anyway. “Do what?” 

“You know what. Why did you save CatNap?” 

It’s a simple question, one that he’s been avoiding ever since the incident occurred. Why did he save CatNap? Is it because he felt sorry for him? No, something about that answer didn’t fit right. Maybe he's tired of the meaningless death happening right before his eyes. He saw the moment CatNap’s life was about to be taken, and he realized he didn’t want to see red on the pipes again, to hear the sounds of someone’s body crunching between machinery, to witness the life drain from someone’s eyes. 

And yeah, maybe it’s his fault those deaths happened. Maybe he’s selfish for saving CatNap against his will. But he doesn’t regret what he did. 

He stared straight ahead, unable to meet Poppy’s gaze as he spoke. “It just… seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“The right thing? John, you can’t be serious—” 

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” 

Poppy’s eyes widen in surprise. He turns away, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest. He know she means well, but he’s really not in the mood to hear her criticize his decision. What’s done is done. 

She seems to gain some self-awareness as pretty soon, her own expression morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

His gaze softens. “’S’alright. Sorry for snapping.” 

“On the bright side, CatNap won’t be in our way for a while. His injuries are too severe for him to continue dominating Playcare, let alone stop us from reaching The Prototype. You did good.” 

She offers him a thumbs up and a smile that looks a little too forced. He can tell she isn’t happy about CatNap being alive, but is offering to set the matter aside, for now at least. John gladly accepts the offer, giving her a thumbs up and smile in return.  

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s move onto the tape,” Poppy says. “What I’m about to show you is an event we toys call ‘The Hour of Joy’. Once you see this, there’s no going back.”  

Understanding dawns on him then. He steels his nerves before replying, “I’m ready.” 

She examines him worriedly, as if suddenly remembering the breakdown he had moments prior. “Are you sure? What you’re about to see is pretty gruesome, and after what you just went through…” 

“I’m alright now, really. Show me the tape.” 

Poppy still seems hesitant, but eventually, she nods, popping the VHS tape into the player. John proceeds to witness what is known as ‘The Hour of Joy’. It’s a horrific scene full of death and bloodshed, toys rebelling against the humans all across the factory. Scientists, employees, guests—each human being fell victim to the attack regardless of whether they were innocent or guilty. And the one who orchestrated it all? The Prototype. 

As he witnesses the bodies scattered all across the floor, a striking realization hits him. 

That could’ve been him. 

Had he not called out that day, then he would have been another victim of the slaughter. 

Something dark and heavy slithers between his organs, making him feel nauseous. Don’t think about it. He shakes the intrusive thoughts from his head, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. 

The Prototype has to be stopped. That much is certain. And it looks like the only person who’s going to be able to defeat The Prototype is him, John Walker. 

He turns towards the elevator, determined. “Let’s go. I’m ready.” 

“No.” 

He blinks. “Pardon?” 

Poppy looks at him sternly. “You aren’t ready. You’re tired, bleeding, and I just witnessed you falling apart at the seams. You need to rest.” 

Whatever burst of confidence he had depletes . Was she serious? How can he rest knowing what he knows now, and after coming this far in their journey? Was she seriously asking him to take a step back right as they’re reaching the end? 

“But… what about our mission? The Prototype—" 

“Isn’t going anywhere. Don’t worry, once you’re healed and rested, then we’ll finish this once and for all. In the meantime, take this.” 

Poppy grabs a medkit from the shelf, using both hands to drag the little box before dropping it down to him. She offers him one last smile, this one more sincere than the last. It's enough to ease the pressure surrounding his heart. His relationship with Poppy is delicate, a partnership built mainly on lies and ignorance. There were definitely times where Poppy has downright manipulated him, but he likes to think she still cares for him and genuinely feels sorry for her actions. He certainly cares for her. 

"I'll see you soon. Be safe, John.” 

With that, Poppy leaves back through the vent. 

After some consideration, John decides that the train station would be the best place to rest. It’s the safest option; after all, Playcare isn’t safe regardless of whether CatNap is still roaming around. Unfortunately, there’s no way for him to return to the main entrance or the Game Room with the train still broken. That leaves only the security room right by the train station. 

He proceeds to ride the cable car out of Playcare. It’s funny—it almost feels like he’s going backwards. Instead of riding the elevator down to the lab where The Prototype supposedly resides, he’s heading back towards the starting point. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. 

The security room is thankfully empty when he arrives. He ensures the door is locked before plopping down in the rolling chair with a heavy sigh. The medkit Poppy gave him is still in his hands; he should probably make use of it before he does anything else. He peels off his shredded shirt and tries not to feel too disgusted by the blood and sweat sticking to his skin.                                              

Once he finishes patching himself up, he allows his attention to linger towards the security monitors. The screens were completely static. Maybe he can change that. It would be useful to have security footage of his surroundings, even if he only plans on being here for a few more hours. He tries pressing the red control button to reactivate the security cameras. It doesn’t work. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, he resorts to the old-fashioned way: slamming his fists against the monitors. The screens suddenly flicker on. That… surprisingly worked. 

There are 15 monitors in total. Most of them are in Playcare, with two in each location: The Main Area, Home Sweet Home, The School, The Playhouse, The Counselor’s Office, and the Toy Store. There's one camera in the Gas Production Zone and two more directly outside the door of the security room he's in, presumably for protection. None in the Caverns. 

Nothing particularly interesting reveals itself on the cameras. Playcare looks practically deserted, much like it did when he first explored it. No signs of life. Poppy and Kissy Missy are probably off hiding somewhere. Miss Delight is most certainly deceased, yet another life snuffed before his eyes. DogDay is… not there. He would have hoped there would at least be a body, but he doesn’t see one on the cameras. The realization leaves a heavy ache in his chest. He tries not to think about it too much. 

No sign of CatNap. 

He sighs before laying his head down on the desk. That’s enough emotional damage for one day. Maybe after he takes a nap, he’ll feel less like a flaming garbage can. Or better yet, maybe he’ll discover that this is all one big dream.   

Wouldn’t that be nice. 

Death. Pain. Darkness. 

That is all CatNap knows. 

It’s in his nature. He was made to serve The Prototype, the only being capable of releasing them all from this eternal damnation. It was him who initially freed them all from their tormentors, and it is him who will lead them towards salvation. But even a being as divine as The Prototype cannot be in all places at once. That is why he chose CatNap, granting him the honor of becoming his priest, his overseer, his executioner. 

So that is what he became.  

He sheds blood and tears through flesh and devours souls all in the name of his savior. Upon welcoming the light, he has somehow embraced the darkness. And his hunger, oh his hunger, it never abates. Perhaps that is part of the reason why The Prototype chose him. Aside from his deep devotion, he has an insatiable thirst for blood. 

He doesn’t recall how he became this way, nor does he care to remember. All that matters is serving his god. His savior. His one true friend. 

Nothing else matters. 

Then he showed up. 

He was a man—an average-looking one at that—returning to the factory to undo his sins. 

Pitiful. 

He can sense the guilt buried deep within him, can taste the fear crawling through his nightmares. Insecurity gnaws at the man like maggots on a corpse. It made it all the more fun to toy with the man, to prey on his fears and doubts. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been so careless. Even though the man was at a major disadvantage, he was surprisingly resilient. It was intriguing. People seldom last long against his subordinates, let alone CatNap himself.  When he realized how close the man was to succeeding, he knew it was time to put an end to their game. 

So he cornered him. The Safe Room was meant to be the man’s final destination, but unfortunately he had gotten carried away. It had been ages since he had a good meal, his hunger especially powerful after hours of stalking his prey. He had been excited. 

Too excited. 

The slippery little rodent had just barely managed to escape his grasp. CatNap had never felt as big of a fool as he had when the flames erupted onto his body. It was agonizing. And he deserved it for failing his savior. The only way to make up for his mistake was to give up his life to The Prototype, to become a part of him. He’d been ready. 

Then the man pushed him. 

At first, CatNap had been too shocked to say anything. But the humiliation and rage was quick to unfold. How dare that little rodent interfere with what was meant to be an honorable sacrifice? Everything he worked for, everything he was belonged to The Prototype, and then that man went and robbed him of his chance to become one with The Prototype, to be of use to him one last time. 

He should’ve killed him right then and there. 

He should’ve wrapped his paws around hIS TINY NECK AND SQUEEZED THE LIFE OUT OF HIM HE SHOULD’VE CUT HIM UP AND WATCHED HIM SLOWLY BLEED OUT HE SHOULD’VE SUNKEN HIS CLAWS DEEPER SO MUCH DEEPER INTO HIS CHEST AND RIPPED HIS HEART OUT WHILE HE SCREAMS IN AGONY HE SHOULD’VE— 

Why did you save me?  

… 

… 

It doesn’t matter. 

What’s done is done. All he can do now is recover. Survive. As he lays within the shadows of The Caverns—the burning pain on his body a constant reminder of his failure—he contemplates what will happen next. He hasn’t spoken to The Prototype since the incident, and he doubts his savior will be so keen as to see him in this pathetic state. 

CatNap is admittedly afraid to face him. Not because he might die, no—it’s worse than that. He’s afraid The Prototype won’t forgive him. That he’ll choose to abandon him rather than letting him be of use.  

The pain would be too much to bear. 

That man. This is all his fault. Had he never showed up, none of this would be happening. What makes him so special compared to the other employees, who when faced with the consequences of their actions, had all fallen? Why does he continue to persevere when all odds appear to be stacked against him? 

A small voice whispers in the back of CatNap’s twisted mind. It wants to know more about this man, though the reason is unknown to him. Something in his brain won’t let it go, an itch that needs to be scratched. A curiosity has awoken in him and it longs to be satisfied. 

Curiosity killed the cat.  

It’s a good thing he does not fear death.

Chapter Text

John wakes up to find himself drooling on the desktop. He sits up, neck stiff and body aching all over. It seems all the stress and physical activity is finally starting to come down on his body. He’s surprised his knees haven’t given out with all the hopping and jumping he’s been doing with the Grabpack. Sure, he’s only in his mid-30s, but he may as well be a senior citizen with how old he feels right now.     

He stretches his back until it makes a satisfying ‘pop!’ then he turns his attention to the security monitors. There’s some movement going on in Playcare, as a smaller variant of PJ Pug-A-Pillar appears to be crawling through The Toystore. On another screen, a Bunzo Bunny is marching through The Counselor’s Office. It appears that with CatNap out of the way, some of the smaller toys are starting to come out of hiding. He can’t tell if that’s a good thing. On one hand, it’s a sign that The Prototype is beginning to lose his power over the society operating within the factory. On the other hand, he may have to deal with even more toys trying to murder him. Lovely. 

There’s still no sign of CatNap on the monitors. Either he’s really good at hiding, or he’s staying in the one place with no cameras: The Caverns. It would make sense considering no other toys would dare enter there. Not to mention the shrine… 

His stomach rumbles loudly, interrupting his thoughts. In all the excitement, he hardly noticed just how hungry he was. The last thing he ate was a bowl of cereal right before he began heading towards the factory. Had he known he’d be here this long, he would have at least packed a couple of snacks to keep him going, but as it stands, he is completely snackless. 

He rummages through the room in hopes of finding something, maybe a candy bar or a pack of mixed nuts. Alas, he finds nothing. The vending machines scattered across the factory have all been looted, so that’s not an option. At least water isn’t a concern, the plumbing system appearing to be as functional as the electricity, but the lack of food will soon become an issue. He heard somewhere that the average person can go a few weeks without food before starving to death… 

Not that he plans on being here that long. After all, he’s got a job to do. The best solution would be to face The Prototype right now, and end this journey once and for all. 

…Then again, he has no idea what he’s up against. Is it really a good idea to rush into this blindly, without a plan? Poppy seems confident, but then again, Poppy isn’t the one putting herself directly in harm’s way—nope, that achievement goes to John Walker, biggest pushover since 1973. 

Screw it. If he’s going to die, he’s at least having one last meal beforehand. 

He pulls out the red telephone he found in Playcare. Maybe he can order something with this? It sounds ridiculous, but it also seems like the most brilliant idea he’s had all day. The only question is whether the phone can connect to the outside world or if it only connects with other telephones within the factory. He could test it by dialing a number… maybe his parents? Oh God, should he call his parents? He hasn’t spoken with them in forever, but after everything that’s happened, maybe he should. This could be his last chance to speak to them. 

Before he can dial the number, the phone rings. 

He answers the call. 

“Hey Ollie.” 

“John! You’re alright!” Ollie says through the speaker. “I was so worried. Poppy told me what happened. Are you okay? Where are you?” 

The concern in his voice does not go unnoticed, prompting a smile to grow on John’s face. “I’m okay. I’m in the security room right by the train station.” 

“That’s a relief. Is your head okay? Poppy said something about you not feeling well. Please tell me you haven’t gone crazy, I would hate to lose another friend.” 

“No crazier than usual.” 

“Are you sure? No sudden violent urges or cannibalistic thoughts?” 

“Ollie, relax. I’m okay.” 

“If you say so…”  

There’s a pause, as if Ollie wants to say something else but isn’t sure if he should. John has a feeling he knows what it’s about. His suspicions are confirmed the moment Ollie speaks again. 

“So… about CatNap.” 

Here we go again.  

John sighs. “I’m guessing Poppy told you?” 

“She did. I just… don’t understand. After everything he did to you? It doesn’t make sense to me why you would save him.” 

An uncomfortable feeling stirs in his stomach. He had avoided this topic with Poppy, but now Ollie is the one pressing him. It seems there’s no running away from this conversation so he may as well get it over with. 

“Is it really that surprising? No one said I had to kill him, you just said I needed to restore power to Playcare by getting rid of the red smoke. That’s what I did.” 

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. CatNap isn’t going to stop serving The Prototype just because you spared him.” 

“Even if that’s true, it’s not like he can do anything to stop us. He’s wounded. I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

“…You killed Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long Legs. But you’re reluctant to kill CatNap.” 

The way Ollie so factually points out his homicide makes his stomach drop. The feeling of guilt is starting to become more and more familiar to him. 

“I mean—it’s not like I wanted to kill them. It was self-defense. I had no choice.” 

Another pause. Ollie seems to be processing his words. 

“So you’re saying… you wouldn’t have killed them if your life wasn’t in direct danger?” 

John shifts uncomfortably. “I… guess?”  

“Hmm… alright then.” Just like that, the discussion is over. “Anyway, while you’re holed up in there, you’re probably hungry, right?” 

His shoulders sink with relief as the tension dissipates from the air. “No kidding. I would kill for just about anything right now.” 

“Even flesh…?” 

“Ollie.” 

“Kidding, kidding! Lucky for me, I still have some rations left in my hiding spot. I would share them with you, but… I really don’t feel safe revealing my location. Please don’t be mad!” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.” 

“You can always fix the train, that way you can return to the surface where the main entrance is. Who knows? Maybe you can contact someone from the outside world, someone who can bring you food.” 

“I’m not an engineer. How do you expect me to fix a train?” 

“It can’t be that hard. Just follow the instruction manual; there should be one on the train. Hopefully, it hasn’t been burnt up by the flames. Once you get that train fixed, you can go back to the main entrance and order yourself some yummy food!” 

This does not sound like a very feasible plan. But he has to admit, the possibility of food is very tempting. It also gives him a reason to procrastinate facing off against The Prototype, though it's probably best to keep that part to himself. 

“Guess I can give it a shot.” 

“Great! Just remember, when you do reach the surface… please don’t leave. Poppy and I would be really upset if you left us. We’re trusting you, okay?” 

He swallows thickly. “Okay.” 

“Good. Anyway, I gotta go. Good luck!” 

With that, Ollie hangs up. John stares at the telephone for a few seconds longer before pocketing it. Guess he better get to work… 

He glances at the security footage outside the door, the one that gives him a view of the train. 

He can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. 

An hour into attempting to repair the train and he’s already over it. 

He manages to find the manual along with a VHS tape on how to repair the train should it ever become damaged (there’s a training video for everything here, isn’t there?). After gathering the necessary tools, he immediately gets to work. It’s a slow, frustrating process. The instructions are difficult to follow and it doesn’t help that he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. Sure, he has some experience repairing his own car, but it’s nothing like fixing up a train, which is way more complex. Not to mention the debris blocking the tunnels. How is he supposed to remove that on his own?  

Who am I kidding? There’s no way this thing is getting fixed. I’m a corporate slave, not a damn engineer  

Before he can decide whether he wants to quit, a noise comes from his right. He snaps his head around, immediately on guard. 

A small toy steps out from the shadows, revealing itself. It’s a Cat-Bee, a damaged one from the looks of it. Her left ear is chipped and her right eye is missing, leaving only an empty socket and a vertical scar in its place. Cat-Bee takes a seat near the edge of the wall and proceeds to watch him, blinking once. She doesn’t appear threatening, but that could easily change.   

He keeps an eye on her as he moves towards the broken railroad tracks, deciding he might have better luck with that than the train itself. Cat-Bee continues to silently watch him. Then something unexpected happens: as he’s lining up the railroad tracks, Cat-Bee stands up and begins walking towards the hammer laying on the ground. She scoops it up with her mouth and proceeds to bring it towards him. 

A flicker of surprise passes through him. He decides not to question it, offering a small smile as he accepts the hammer. 

“Thanks…” 

Cat-Bee seems pleased with his response as she continues watching him work. 

His surprise doesn’t end there. 

Moments after he accepted the hammer from Cat-Bee, several other small toys begin emerging from the shadow. A small Bron steps into the light, followed by a Daisy toy, then a Boogie Bot. Each toy seems damaged, either missing a part or banged up in some  way. Soon, there are a dozen of them moving all around him, wordlessly assisting him with repairing the train. 

For a moment, he’s speechless. Never has he seen this many toys who weren’t actively trying to kill him. It’s not like the small ones were afraid of him; the miniature versions of Huggy Wuggy and the Smiling Critters had no issue trying to murder him. Not only were these toys not attacking him, they were actually helping him. 

Something must have changed after he defeated CatNap. It’s like… they trust him now. Or at least these particular toys do. There’s no guarantee the other toys aren’t still hostile. 

Sometime into repairing the train (now with the help of his tiny assistants), he realizes that one of the batteries is missing. Did it fall out during the crash? A quick search around the area indicates that the battery is nowhere in the train station. He’ll have to find it if he wants to power the train after it’s fixed. 

And the only place to search is Playcare. 

Wonderful. 

The moment he arrives back into Playcare, he can immediately sense something different in the air. A power shift. CatNap is no longer in charge, and the red smoke has completely disappeared from the area. 

But with no one in charge, that left room for anarchy. 

He can feel hundreds of hungry eyes watching him from the shadows as he walks through Playcare. The toys are not above devouring him with or without CatNap, he’s sure of it. Thankfully, they don’t seem confident enough to attack him just yet. It’s best to find the battery before that changes. 

He digs through trashcans and piles of junk. There are a couple of times where a toy startles him by jumping out. He has to stop himself from kicking them out of the reflex before they scurry off. About half an hour passes and he still has no luck finding it. 

Preparing to search yet another corner, he turns around only to see Kissy Missy standing in front of him. 

“Jesus!” John places a hand on his chest, calming his heart. “You scared me…”    

Kissy Missy just looks at him with that unblinking gaze. She looks almost exactly the same as Huggy Wuggy. He can’t help but imagine him standing there instead, that wild look on his face as he gets ready to hunt him down. He wonders if her teeth are just as sharp… 

He shakes the thought from his head. No, they are not the same. She helped him. As far as he’s concerned, this is his friend.    

“It’s good to see you again,” John says. “You and Poppy doing okay?” 

She nods once. Something tells him she appreciates his concern. 

“Good. By the way, would you happen to know where I can find a train battery around here? It’s big, rectangle, glows red…” 

She shakes her head. It seems she has no clue where the battery is either. 

“I see. Thanks anyway.” 

He sighs before rubbing his chin thoughtfully. It has to be somewhere in Playcare. He’s already searched all over the main area, and he doesn’t recall ever encountering one during his exploration of the other buildings. The only building he hasn’t explored is the Toy House, but it’s blocked by debris, and anyway he doubts the train battery would be in there.  

That leaves only one location left that he hasn’t fully explored: The Caverns. The only place without a camera. The place which holds the shrine of The Prototype. 

The place where CatNap likely is. 

He ignores the feeling in his gut telling him that this was very much a bad idea and refocuses his attention on the tall pink creature before him. 

“I’m gonna go search The Caverns. Let Poppy know I’m working on getting the train fixed, and if all goes well, I might be able to bring in some food real soon.” 

Kissy Missy seems to light up at the prospect of food. She nods once before turning around and walking off. He turns his attention towards The School, where he knows the area he needs to go can be accessed. 

It’s now or never.  

Trying his best not to think about what might lie ahead, he heads towards The Caverns. 

It’s just as dark and creepy as last time.  

He jumps across the platforms using his Grabpack, being careful not to fall. It would be a real shame if this is how he died, being impaled by a spike after falling off the edge. He curses beneath his breath as a piece of rock crumbles beneath his feet, nearly causing him to slip off the platform. It’s fine. This is fine. Just stay calm, and everything will be alright. He repeats this to himself as he moves down the metal bridge before finally reaching a good vantage point. 

No sign of CatNap. That’s good. Best case scenario, he’s in and out of here with a train battery and all his body parts intact.  

A spotlight shines above a huge platform below, revealing The Prototype’s shrine in all its gruesome glory. The first time he saw it, he wanted to vomit. Toy corpses make up most of it while at the very front is a human skeleton. He didn’t want to believe it was real, tried to convince himself that it was a plastic decoration you’d find in a Halloween store. But there’s no denying it. That was a real human being once. All of the corpses were human beings once. Breathing, thinking, feeling. Just like him. 

Nausea grows in his stomach. He tears his gaze away from the shrine, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. 

Then he sees it. 

In a dark corner below, a glowing red train battery is nestled in between two large rocks. 

Bingo.  

A rush of excitement goes through him as he launches himself onto the ground below. He wastes no time shooting a Grabpack hand out and grabbing the battery. Relief falls over him, and for a moment, he lowers his guard. 

Step one is nearly complete. Now all he needs to do is get back to the train station and— 

“You should not be here.”  

His heart leaps to his throat as he whips around. Two glowing white irises stare back at him from the shadows. 

CatNap. 

John takes a step back, eyes darting around in search for a quick escape in case things go south. He doesn’t have much time to plan before CatNap steps out of the darkness, revealing himself. He still looks worse for wear, fur darkened and disheveled. The smell of burnt flesh comes from him, invading John’s nostrils, and it takes all of his willpower not to gag. His movements are slower than usual, and there’s no sign of the red smoke, though that doesn’t mean he can’t still use it. 

With that in mind, John wisely takes another step back, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“I don’t want any trouble—” 

“Leave.”  

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

He begins speed-walking back towards the platforms above, fully intending on leaving ASAP. But before he can launch himself upwards, a purple tail slithers towards him, yanking the train battery out from his grip. 

“Hey!” 

“Thief.”  

“I need that battery.” 

CatNap merely tilts his head, the train battery wrapped between his tail. It seems he isn’t letting go of the battery and is curious to see what John will do about it. As if he’s testing him. 

He ignores the voice in his head screaming at him to get away, and attempts to reason with the cat. 

“What will it take for you to give me the battery?” 

CatNap doesn’t offer him an answer. He just stares, as if he finds this whole situation amusing. It's frustrating. Can’t he catch a break for once? 

A heavy sigh passes through his lips. 

“Fine, keep it…” 

He turns around, pretending he’s about to launch himself back the way he came. Suddenly, he whips around and shoots a Grabpack hand towards the battery. 

CatNap is quicker. 

A purple paw shoots out and grabs the elastic arm. Before John can register what happened, CatNap yanks him forward, bringing him face-to-face with the giant creature. Fear renders him immobile as CatNap stares him down. His breathing becomes heavier, as if he’s excited, and somehow his gaping mouth seems to grow wider.    

“Little Rat.”  

John watches as CatNap slowly raises his sharp claws above his face, and without thinking he blurts— 

“I can get you food!” 

CatNap pauses. John takes that as an opportunity to continue. 

“That’s what the battery is for. If I fix the train, I can reach the surface and order food. If you let me go, I’ll give you some, but if you kill me then you’ll continue to starve.” 

His heart is racing by the time he finishes his proposal. There’s a long silence before CatNap eventually responds. 

“…I do not need your help.”  

“Clearly.” 

CatNap’s claws inch closer to John’s face. 

“Alright, alright! Just—listen. You don’t have to like me. But as far as I’m concerned, we’re both stuck here whether we like it or not. So can we both agree to put our differences aside just this once, for our own benefit?” 

It seems fruitless trying to reason with the violent creature, but a part of him hopes that maybe, just maybe he can get through to him. CatNap is silent again. There’s something in his expression that gives John the impression that he’s thinking. Searching. For what, he doesn’t know, but the fact that he hasn’t killed him yet is surely a good sign. 

After a moment of tense silence, CatNap releases the elastic arm and the train battery. 

“Do not return.”  

That’s all CatNap says before turning around and walking back towards the dark corner. John wordlessly picks up the train battery and heads towards the exit. 

Before he leaves, he hesitates. He wants to say something. 

Why do you keep letting me go?  

Aren’t you worried you’ll starve to death?  

It must be lonely down here all by yourself  

In the end, he doesn’t say any of those things, swallowing down the words like a bitter pill. Without looking back, he launches himself upwards and exits The Caverns.   

CatNap watches the man leave with conflicting thoughts in his mind. 

When he first saw the man wander into The Caverns, his immediate thought was: this man must have a death wish. Of all places to go, what purpose did he have for coming here? Nothing valuable lies here except for his shrine, though he doubts someone like him would appreciate that. 

His questions are answered when he sees the man going for the train battery. 

CatNap hadn’t thought much when he initially brought the battery down here. He had stumbled across it near the train crash, around the same time he first saw the man. Now that the man was seeking the battery, he felt suspicious. Were him and his allies planning to use the train against The Prototype? He doesn’t see how that would work, but he can’t rule it out. The man has proven to be clever when he wants to be. 

Then he confessed his desires to reach the surface. To ‘order food’, he said. 

Before CatNap can even fathom why the man would choose ‘ordering food’ over simply escaping the factory, the man proceeds to offer him a portion in exchange for his life. 

To think CatNap would be so easily persuaded was laughable. But despite rejecting his offer, the man still seemed insistent on working together. 

He can’t tell if the man is brave or stupid. 

Either way, he doesn’t sense any deception coming from him. The man is determined to stay, or at least, he’s convinced himself that he is. The important part is that he doesn’t appear to be in a rush to confront The Prototype. 

How curious. 

At this point, CatNap doesn’t know what he wants. One moment he’s curious about the man, the next moment he wants to devour him. He isn’t even sure what The Prototype wants him to do—he has yet to speak with him again since his latest failure. The uncertainty mixed with the hunger pains makes him feel as if he’s suffocating. 

He wants something. Something to fill the hole in his chest. In his stomach. 

And he thinks maybe the man might be that something. 

Which is exactly why that man needs to stay away. 

Because he’s confusing. And CatNap doesn’t like confusion. He likes things to be clear, like serving The Prototype. That’s his purpose, that’s the reason he exists. It’s what he’s made for. Nothing else matters. 

Nothing. 

Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING— 

“You don’t have to like me. But as far as I’m concerned, we’re both stuck here whether we like it or not.”  

…Stuck? He’s not stuck. The Prototype freed him. He’s free. This is exactly what he wants; this is how things are supposed to be. CatNap is nothing, therefore he is free.  

…Right? 

“So can we both agree to put our differences aside just this once, for our own benefit?”  

… 

He doesn’t understand these feelings.  

Perhaps it’s best not to think about it. Once he’s fully recovered, he’ll regain the power he’s lost. His hunger won’t go away (it never does), but his thoughts will be clear. Then everything will go back to normal.  

He cannot let The Prototype down.

Chapter Text

When John returns to the train station, he’s surprised to see Poppy and Kissy Missy are there too. The former appears to be directing the tiny toy helpers as they fix the train, while the latter hauls debris away from the tunnels. It’s systematic and organized, which is definitely not the kind of behavior he’s used to seeing here in the factory. It’s as if all it takes is some good leadership to change this place into a modern civilization. 

The thought makes him feel strangely hopeful. 

He approaches Poppy, prompting the doll to turn around. “Oh, you’re back! Kissy Missy told me you were repairing the train, so I figured we’d lend a hand. Hope you don’t mind.” 

He looks at the girl in awe. “Are you kidding? You’ve made more progress in ten minutes than I’ve made in an hour. This is wonderful, Poppy.” 

“It’s the least I can do to repay you. After everything you’ve done for us, constantly risking your life just to help us… I really can’t thank you enough.” 

She averts her gaze, hands fiddling with the ruffles of her sleeves. 

She’s nervous. 

And John has a feeling he knows why. She’s worried that by repairing the train, John will use it to escape the factory. 

His face softens. “Hey. Look at me.” 

Poppy hesitantly looks up. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I made a promise to you, didn’t I?” 

Despite his efforts to reassure her, the doll doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Still, she tries to offer him a smile back. “Y-yeah, I know. So! You’re ordering food. I think that’s a great idea, and I’m sure the others will really appreciate it.” 

“You aren’t going to eat any?” 

“I can, but I’m not required to. Unlike the others, I have no desire to eat whatsoever. That won’t stop me from indulging every once in a while.” 

Huh, guess that explains how she survived in that box for so long…  

“So what kind of food are you going to order?” Poppy asks. 

Kissy Missy and the other toys stop what they’re doing to gather around John, seeming excited to hear about food. 

“There’s a pizza place about thirty miles from here,” John explains. “Seems like our best bet.” 

Poppy’s eyes sparkles. “We’ve never had pizza before. How exciting!” 

The other toys make collective sounds of agreement. 

“Trust me, it’s pretty good. Though I wonder what toppings we should choose…” 

“Whatever you choose, we’ll trust your decision. You have the most experience with these things, and besides, you’re our friend.” 

Something warm spreads within his chest. They're putting so much faith in him, even when it seems like he’s done so little to earn that trust. It goes beyond just choosing a pizza topping—they see him as a leader, someone who will guide them towards the right direction despite the fact that he used to work here. It only strengthens his resolve not to let them down. 

He considers his options. The most basic thing to order is cheese. But now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t he choose something more nutritious? If they haven’t been eating well in so long then it’s safe to assume that they’re malnourished. But that’s assuming they need nutrition. For all he knows, maybe all they need is the energy they get from consuming calories, not the vitamins and minerals that come with it. 

The exact science behind how these living toys operate is unknown to him. He’s read the files scattered around the factory, but funnily enough, none of those files clarify why they eat or how it works. Their digestive systems are apparently the same as a human’s, organs having been transferred from a human body to an artificial vessel, but there are some key differences left unaddressed from the information he’s gathered. Differences such as whether they still need vitamins and minerals (how much are their bodies capable of repairing tissues and growing cells?) or what is the recommended calorie intake in order for each toy to function properly.  

How the hell do they fit a digestive system into toys as small as Poppy? 

Maybe he should have paid better attention in biology class. 

“Hey Poppy, can I ask a few questions?” 

“Of course! What is it?” 

“You said you don’t need to eat, right? Is there a reason why hunger doesn’t apply to you, but it applies to the other toys?” 

Poppy taps her chin thoughtfully. “I’m not really sure. The scientists didn’t explain to us much about our condition, as you probably could’ve guessed. But they did tell me that I was designed to be ‘better’ than the others, which is just nonsense…” 

“I see. So I’m guessing you wouldn’t know much about how their hunger works, would you?” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t. Sorry, I wish I could be more helpful, but this need for toys to devour and consume things is just as mysterious to me as it is to you.” 

His shoulders sink with disappointment. Looks like this eating thing might be trickier than he thought. He wants to do what’s best for his friends, but with such limited information, he’ll just have to take a gamble and hope he’s right. Maybe if he had time to observe them, he might find the answers to his questions on his own. As it stands, he doesn’t have that kind of luxury, for once they finish this little side quest of his, he’ll go right back to facing off against The Prototype. 

Not that’s he’s anxious about it or anything. Definitely not. He’s completely ready to battle The Prototype right after he’s done with this task.  

Keep telling yourself that  

Ultimately, he decides to order the supreme. It has the most toppings, therefore the most calories and the most nutrition. They can always remove the toppings that they don’t like. 

“Okay, one last question. Do any of you guys… you know… excrete?” 

Poppy places her tiny hands on her hips and gives him a scolding look. “John! That is a very inappropriate question to ask a lady.” 

He immediately backpedals, raising his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry! Forget I asked.” 

She laughs, and it’s so bright and cheerful that for a moment, all he can do is stare in awe. Kissy Missy covers her mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking as she appears to be giggling nonverbally. The entire train station begins filling with beeps and chirps of joy. The sight is enough to fill his heart, and pretty soon, he’s laughing too.

For the next twenty-four hours, John continues to stay in the security room, designating it as his official resting place for the time being. It’s not the most comfortable space, but it’s secure enough that he doesn’t have to worry about being ambushed in the middle of taking a nap. 

Sleep sadly doesn’t come easy. The hunger pains are constant, growing worse with each hour that passes. It doesn’t help that he’s basically used all of his energy running from vicious toys, solving puzzles, and repairing the train. Poppy practically forces him to sit down somewhere, insisting that he needs to conserve his energy. He knows she’s right, but he feels bad just sitting around while everyone else works hard to repair the train, especially since the toys have been starving much longer than he has. It’s a wonder how they even manage to walk around day-to-day without passing out from a lack of energy. Another unsolved mystery, it seems. 

Despite the challenges, John manages to push through. 

And when the next day comes, by some miracle, they’ve managed to fully repair the train.  

He wastes no time boarding it and heading towards the surface, Poppy by his side. 

It’s quiet when they reach the surface. No other toys are in sight. It seems they don’t tend to come this far, preferring to stay deeper within the factory. Footsteps echo as he walks down the hall with Poppy casually riding on his shoulder. 

Soon enough, they reach the main entrance. He stares at the double doors in front of him, solid metal making it impossible to see through without opening them. He still remembers stepping through these doors, the only knowledge being from the letter he received, the one stating that the employees of Playtime Co. were still here. He hadn’t known what to think other than that his past was coming back to haunt him. All the guilt and regret he had buried deep inside resurfaced upon receiving that letter. He knew the only way to get rid of it for good was to confront his past. 

He just hadn’t known the extent of what his mistakes caused. 

The experiments, the death, the chaos. Would he have still came if he knew what he was getting into? Was confronting his past really worth risking his life? Sure, his life wasn’t quite what he had hoped it would be, but at least he had a life to live.  

He could leave right now. End this nightmare and never look back. Freedom is just within his reach, all he has to do is run out those doors. He could— 

“John?” 

Poppy’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns his head to see big blue eyes that were so uncannily human staring right back at him. 

“Are you alright? You got quiet there for a second…” 

Crap, did I zone out?  

“Ah, sorry. Guess the hunger is starting to get to me...” 

She pats his head sympathetically. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. All you need to do is call the number and place your order. I believe in you.” 

He smiles. “Thanks. Give me one second.” 

After placing Poppy on the receptionist desk, John pulls out the red telephone and proceeds to dial the number for a local pizza place (thank goodness he kept the advertisement in his wallet). Anxiety keeps him feeling on edge as he listens to the phone ring once, twice. 

Then someone picks up. 

“This is the Pizza Palace, how can I help you?” A bored-sounding teenager greets through the speaker. 

John opens his mouth, only for the words to get caught in his throat. Shit, when was the last time he’s talked to a non-toy person? The realization that the other person on the line has not the slightest clue of what’s going on here hits him like a truck. 

He clears his throat and forces himself to speak. “Uhh, yes, can I uh—can I please get, uh…” He pauses, considering. “What’s the maximum amount of pizzas I’m allowed to order?” 

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Uh, I’d have to ask my manager? But like, he’s not here right now, so…” 

“Nevermind. I’d like to order ten large supreme pizzas. Actually, make it twenty.” 

“…Is this a prank? Dereck, is this you, man?” 

“Not Dereck. I need them for… a party.” 

“And you chose supreme? Yikes.” 

“Listen kid, I don’t have all day. Can I order twenty pizzas or not?” 

“You’re the customer. Anything else?” 

“No, that’s…” He pauses again, an idea occurring to him. “…Actually, can you make one of those pizzas a meat lovers?” 

 “Sooo nineteen supremes and one meat lovers. That all?” 

“That’s all.” 

“What’s the address?” 

“Playtime Co. Headquarters.” 

“The toy factory? Isn’t that the place where all those employees went missing? I hear it's haunted.” 

John can feel himself becoming increasingly anxious. “Sure, that’s the place. Can you deliver here?” 

“It’s kind of far out there… but like, I guess we can still deliver it to you.” 

“Good.” Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.” 

“Uh-huh. So your total’s gonna be $346.18. See you then. I swear to god if this is another prank, I’m quitting this job…” 

He doesn’t think he was meant to hear that last part before the employee hangs up. The cost is what catches his attention the most. He’s pretty sure he has a grand total of three dollars in his wallet. 

“Shit, I just realized—how am I supposed to pay for this?”  

Poppy stands up on the front desk. “I’ve got just the thing. Follow me.” 

She leads him to an office room belonging to one of the higher-ups of the company. As he follows her, Poppy explains what she’s about to show him. 

“When the Hour of Joy happened, the people running this place didn’t have time to gather their belongings before fleeing the scene. Naturally, some things got left behind…” 

There’s a safe box hidden behind one of the portraits. All it takes is a little poking around before they find the combination carved into the back of a wooden paddle ball stored inside the drawer of the employee’s desk. 

He enters the code successfully before opening the safe. What he sees makes his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. There's at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of cash in this box.  

Poppy seems pleased with her findings, looking over at John as she waits his response. “Well?” 

John can only swallow before nodding his head. “…That’ll work.” 

It’s an hour and a half wait before they see a bright red car pulling up in the driveway through the security cameras. John is admittedly nervous, though he isn’t sure why. It’s a simple transaction. Take the pizzas, pay the delivery guy, wait for him to leave, then bring the pizzas to the train station.  

Poppy offers him two thumbs up in support, then hides behind the front desk so she won’t be seen. Moments later, someone bangs on the front door. John takes a deep breath before slowly reaching for the handle. 

He cracks it open before peeking out. 

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to daylight, the fresh air hitting his face. A teenager in a red uniform stands before him, hands shoved into his pockets. Judging from the unenthusiastic expression on his face, he’s gonna guess that this is the same person he spoke to over the phone.  

“You the guy who ordered twenty pizzas?” 

“That’s me.” 

The delivery guy takes a moment to examine him from head to toe before eyeing him suspiciously.

"Doesn’t sound like much of a party going on in there.” 

“It hasn’t started yet.” 

“…Right. So should I bring the pizzas in now, or—” 

“Nope, I got it.” 

John quickly moves past the confused employee and makes his way towards the trunk of the car where the pizzas are stored. The smell is tantalizing, his stomach growling as it notices just how close he is to sustenance. It takes everything in him not to scarf down several slices as he begins hauling the boxes into the main lobby. All the while, the young employee watches him, confusion written all over his face. John pays him no mind—this is the last time he’ll ever see this guy, so it doesn’t matter whether he’s suspicious or not. 

After bringing in the twenty pizzas, John reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash he took from the safe. He shoves it towards the teenager, who’s face twists in annoyance before he takes the money. 

The annoyance doesn’t last long, his expression transforming into shock once he realizes how much money he’d been given.

“Wait—are these hundreds?” 

“Thank you, bye!” 

John slams the door shut. 

Nailed it.  

Once the door is shut, Poppy leaves her hiding place and climbs back onto the desk. 

“We did it!” She jumps up and down in excitement, shoes clacking together. 

John holds out his hand for a high-five. She raises her comparatively smaller hand before smacking his. 

Kissy Missy and the small toys cheer upon their arrival back at the train station. He can sense the excitement and anticipation buzzing in the air as they stack the boxes onto the floor. John is practically drooling by now, the smell seemingly enhanced by his hunger.  

“Here’s to new beginnings!” Poppy toasts. 

After one last celebratory cheer, everyone digs in. 

The moment John takes a bite of the hot, greasy food, his brain melts with satisfaction. This is the best damn pizza he’s ever had in his life, though that’s probably the hunger talking. The smaller toys seem to have no issue sharing boxes, eating away at their food bit by bit. He can see Cat-Bee’s face planting onto a pizza slice before chewing eagerly. Lacking a mouth, Boogie Bot has taken to opening his face plate and scooping chunks of pizza directly inside (ah, so that’s how that works…). 

Meanwhile, Kissy Missy is going through box after box with surprising speed, scarfing down each pizza whole with razor sharp teeth that he can now confirm she has. It would be disturbing if he didn’t know Kissy Missy as a peaceful person, for the most part at least. 

Poppy is probably the least messy eater out of all of them, dabbing her face with a napkin after each bite. He wonders if she’s scientifically programmed to be polite or if her good manners were specifically taught to her. 

There are many questions living there in his head. But for now, he pushes them aside, focusing only on enjoying this time with his friends. An odd group of friends, but friends nonetheless. He may never get another moment like this, so he wants to cherish it as much as he can. 

Once he’s officially stuffed, he wipes his greasy hands off on his clothes and gets up. While the others are distracted, he picks up one untouched pizza box in particular, the same one he kept hidden from the others: the meat lovers. 

He begins sneaking off towards the cable car, box in hand. Before he can reach the door, Poppy’s voice calls out from behind him. 

“John? Where are you going?” 

He pauses, cursing internally. Looking over his shoulder, he throws Poppy a look that he can only hope is reassuring. 

“I’m bringing this to someone. I’ll be right back.” 

The vagueness of his statement does not fool Poppy, as she seems to understand exactly who he’s bringing the pizza to. Her brows furrow, something confused and concerned, but thankfully she doesn’t argue.  

“Be safe,” is all she says. 

His expression softens a bit. “I will.” 

With that, John enters the cable car and makes his way back to down Playcare. 

He arrives at The Caverns yet again, this time with a pizza box in tow. It’s not as nerve-wracking coming here now as it was the first time, but still, he remains vigilant. Upon scanning the room, his eyes land on a familiar figure lying there in darkness. He carefully lands on the ground below, then slowly makes his way towards the corner. 

As expected, CatNap is lying in the same spot he was before. However, there’s something off about him. He has his head resting on top of his paws, while his eyes are just… staring blankly at the wall. He doesn’t even react when John moves close enough where he can be seen.  

He's unresponsive.  

John’s blood turns cold. Before he can panic, he notices CatNap’s chest rising and falling steadily, indicating that he is in fact, breathing.  

Oh. He’s just taking a nap. 

That… should have been obvious, given the name. 

His permanent stare now makes sense too. He isn’t actually looking at anything, but his lack of eyelids make him incapable of closing his eyes. It makes him look as if he’s staring straight ahead when in fact, he’s asleep. It’s fascinating, if not a bit creepy.  

After a moment of indecision, John loudly clears his throat in hopes of awakening the cat. A pointy ear twitches, detecting the noise. He can see the moment when CatNap awakens, white irises coming to life as he slowly tilts his head. A sound leaves CatNap—something like a groan, low and guttural—as the feline adjusts to suddenly being awake. 

His gaze shifts towards John and he pauses, as if just now noticing he’s there. For a moment, CatNap doesn’t say anything. John briefly considers that he might’ve messed up, and was now going to be converted into a pincushion for disturbing his sleep. But strangely enough, John doesn’t sense any malice coming from CatNap. Only confusion. 

“I told you not to return.”  

John can’t help the witty remark that falls from his mouth. “Did you? I must have misheard.” 

“Nuisance…”  

Something about seeing CatNap annoyed eases the tension in his shoulders. It’s such an ordinary, human response that for a moment, he forgets about how scary he really is. 

“Well, this ‘nuisance’ just brought you something.” 

At that, CatNap lifts his head up, curious. John carefully approaches him, being sure not to get too close to the unpredictable creature. Once he decides he’s close enough, he sets the pizza box down on the ground and opens the lid. The smell that rises in the air is enticing. CatNap is staring at the pizza intensely, his breathing becoming heavier. John recognizes it as a sign that he’s becoming excited.  

While CatNap drools at the sight of the pizza, John takes a few steps back. He sits down and crosses his legs, watching the creature across from him carefully.  

“I wasn’t entirely sure what you’d like,” John explains. “I figured you were more of a meat eater what with the… hunting and all. But we ordered supreme too, if you’d rather have that instead…” 

CatNap doesn’t respond. He’s not sure if he even heard him. There seems to be some confliction going through CatNap, like he’s trying to fight his hunger but is ultimately losing. Eventually, he snatches the box towards him and begins devouring the pizza, giving into his desires. It hardly takes a minute before he fully devours the pizza, not a crumb left behind. Clearly it’s not enough as CatNap shreds into the cardboard box, desperate for even a scrap more. He feels bad now for only bringing one box, but to be fair, he wasn’t sure whether CatNap would accept it or not. 

“Guess I should’ve brought more than one box, huh?” John tries. 

The joke falls flat as CatNap once again doesn’t respond. The cat continues to examine the box, shaking it as if it would produce something more. After deciding the box was no longer interesting, he tosses it to the side and proceeds to lay back down, chin resting on top of his paws. He doesn’t appear to be paying any attention to John, opting to ignore him instead. It’s an improvement from him attempting to murder John whenever he sees him. 

John takes advantage of this moment by examining CatNap’s body. He looks better, but not entirely. If only he knew more about him, maybe he could figure out a way for him to recover faster… 

John fidgets a bit before finally deciding to open his mouth. “Did you want water? Is that something you need?” 

He doesn’t expect CatNap to answer him. But after a few seconds, the cat responds.  

“No.”  

John perks up. “Oh, alright. What about air? You’re obviously breathing, but is that something you need to do?” 

“Yes.”  

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” 

“No.”  

“I figured. It’s fine if you prefer not to talk. But it would make it a lot easier to know what’s going on in your head if you did talk more.” 

CatNap’s eyes shift back towards him, considering his words. John waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts before speaking. 

“You are strange.”  

John blinks, surprised. “Oh? I mean, I’m not denying that… but out of curiosity, what makes you say that?” 

“Your words. Your actions. They do not make sense.”  

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.” 

CatNap appears to be thinking. Then he speaks again. 

“Why are you here?”  

John frowns. Is this a trick question? The whole reason he came here is find out what happened to his ex-coworkers, and now that he knows, he’s determined to put an end to the one responsible for their disappearance. That’s why he’s here, and that’s what he intends to do… eventually. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

CatNap shakes his head. "Why are you here, helping me?”  

Ah, that makes more sense. John considers the question, though he doesn’t have to think about it for very long before an answer comes to him. 

“Because you look like you could use some help.” 

“I do not—”  

“Need my help? Yeah, you’ve said that. But the thing is, most people who need help don't tend to ask for it.” 

CatNap grows quiet. Those glowing eyes pierce through him, searching his entire soul. John shifts uncomfortably beneath his intense gaze. 

In an attempt to change the subject, John gestures towards CatNap’s body. “How’s the burns? I’m guessing they’re healing okay.” 

“You cannot fool me with your acts of service.”  

“It’s called kindness. And I’m not trying to fool you.” 

John clenches his jaw, trying to decide if he should bring up what he read about Theodore Grambell, the person CatNap used to be before the experimentation. 

Screw it, may as well put it all out in the open. No point in hiding it, anyway  

“I read your file,” John confesses. “I know who you used to be, before you became CatNap. It makes sense how you’re connected to The Prototype. What I don’t understand is why you’re so loyal to him. I get that he saved you… but don’t you ever feel, I don’t know… exhausted trying to serve him?” 

“You know nothing.”  

“Explain it to me, then.” 

No response. It seems he won’t be getting anything else out of him for the remainder of the day. John decides it's better to leave for now, but not before disclosing one last thing.

"I made a promise to Poppy that I would stay here and fix things. I'm not giving up on that, just so you know."

He's not sure why he's telling CatNap this. Maybe he just wants to convince someone other than himself that he's fully committed to this. That no matter what, he isn't going to run from his past. CatNap seems to absorb his words before John stands up. 

“I'll be back," he promises. 

CatNap says nothing, not that John is expecting him to. With one last glance, John turns around and leaves. 

The thoughts in CatNap’s head do not cease. 

Even after the man is gone, he can’t stop thinking about his cursed words. The gift of food, his so-called kindness. His entire behavior makes no sense and it’s aggravating him to no end. 

This must be a trap. A plan to manipulate him into lowering his guard, only to attack when CatNap least expects it. He was an employee of the factory once upon a time. For all he knows, the man might be planning to experiment on CatNap, to pick up where the other scientists left off. Yes, that must be it! His benevolence is only a ruse, his true desire being to torture CatNap, to make him hurt hurt HURT like all the other scientists did. 

…No, that can’t be right. The man’s an open book, awkward and clumsy like a fish out of water. Unlike the calm and clinical scientists who had no issue maintaining their composure as they tortured CatNap. His ignorance also makes him less likely to be a scientist. After all, if he were a scientist then he would not have asked him those questions back in The Caverns, as he would already know the answers. 

So if manipulation isn’t his goal nor is bribery, then why does he insist on bothering him? The uncertainty of it makes him feel restless, off-balance. He can’t stand it. 

Perhaps some hunting will clear his mind. 

CatNap enters Playcare for the first time since he lost his power. Immediately, his senses begin to kick off.  His ears twitch as he hears small movements. His nose tracks the scent of multiple unique bodies. His eyes locates the evidence of small prey lurking nearby. 

There are many of them. Too many. As if they’re unafraid of CatNap hunting them down. 

That won’t do. The Prototype would not be pleased if he sees Playcare in such an uncontrolled state. 

He’ll have to fix this. To punish them. To devour them. 

An agonizing ache begins to spread throughout his stomach. Hunger. It claws at him from the inside, demanding to satisfied. The meal the man had give him earlier wasn’t enough—he needs more.  

More More More More MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE HE NEEDS TO EAT HE NEEDS TO EAT HE NEEDS TO DEVOUR THEM ALL HE NEEDS TO 

He spots one of the miniature versions of the Smiling Critters—a Bobby Bearhug to be specific—in the process of ripping apart the corpse of some unidentifiable toy. Excitement grows within, his mouth salivating, claws itching to dig into plushy flesh. He has to control his heavy breathing lest he give away his position. The mini critter is too distracted to notice CatNap sneaking up on him, as it continues growling and shaking its head. 

In the blink of an eye, CatNap lunges out and snatches his prey into his paw. A shriek sounds through the air as he raises the meal above his wide mouth, preparing to devour the flesh and organs that he knows are inside— 

“Most people who need help don’t tend to ask for it.”  

Startled by his thoughts, CatNap drops the mini critter. The tiny bear scrambles away, disappearing out of sight. All CatNap can do is stand there, perplexed. 

Why did the man’s words pop into his mind so suddenly? 

What does it mean? 

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t. That damn itch just won’t go away. 

He can’t go on like this. Clearly the man doesn’t intend on staying away, and as tempting as it is to eat him, he’d rather not do that just yet. He wants to satisfy the itch in his brain and he can’t do that if the man is no longer alive. 

So he’ll watch him. For research purposes. Surely The Prototype won’t mind if he plays with him a little longer, only this time he’s doing it discreetly, without hurting the man.  

He can only imagine what answers he’ll find in the process.

Chapter Text

He's stalling. 

It’s been several days since he ‘defeated’ CatNap. He’s well-rested, has food in his stomach, and even managed to take a decent shower now that he has access to the other areas again. By all accounts, he should be ready to confront The Prototype. 

He's not. 

It’s ironic. When he was hungry, tired, and stressed, he felt more than ready to reach the end of this journey, to face the final boss once and for all. But now that time has passed, it's as if logic and reasoning has caught up with him. The truth is, he has no idea what he’s up against. Sure, he knows that The Prototype is a highly intelligent creature, has seen an extension of him in the form of a mechanical claw, and he knows that The Prototype is collecting bodies, presumably to make himself stronger. That isn’t a whole lot of information to go off of, all things considered. He doesn’t even know what his true form looks like, which according to Ollie, is terrifying.  

And John is expected to, what—fight him? As if he’s some destined warrior and not a mediocre man in his mid-30s. He’d gotten lucky when he defeated the others bosses, and even then he barely got away with it. How is he supposed to defeat the boss of all bosses? 

What if he fails? 

This isn’t the first time he’s thought about it. Heck, he’s had so many close calls, you’d think he was immune to death. But no matter how many times he’s thought about it, it doesn’t make the possibility of dying any easier to digest. And that’s not even the worst part. No, the worst part is that should he fail, death may not be the only outcome for him. After all, there’s always a chance The Prototype will turn him into a toy instead.  

The thought makes him feel ill. 

He contemplates this as he sits in his office chair, elbows propped on his knees and fingertips pressed together. The security room is slightly more furnished, a mini fridge plugged into the wall with leftover pizza inside, a microwave to warm up said leftovers, and a dingy mattress he’d managed to sneak out of Home Sweet Home. Cat-Bee is currently sitting on that mattress, seemingly grooming herself (despite lacking real fur) as she listens to him vent. 

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. Poppy wants revenge on The Prototype, and I made a promise to her that I would help make that happen, for the sake of freeing the toys. But I just feel like we’re going about this the wrong way. I mean, think about it. What exactly are we going to accomplish by bursting into the lab without so much as a plan? It’s suicidal, is what it is.” 

“And don’t get me wrong, I know Poppy just wants this madness to end, but she isn’t thinking any of this through. I mean, this whole time, I’ve been the one doing all the heavy lifting, and I have no clue what I’m doing half the time! This whole operation just feels sloppy, you know? What we need is a better plan. That, and more power on our side.” 

Cat-Bee stops what’s she’s doing and looks at him, tilting her head curiously. An idea comes to his mind then.  

“What if I can convince CatNap to join our side?” 

Cat-Bee’s one eye blinks. She seems confused but intrigued. 

“Hear me out. Our team is small, right? That puts us at a disadvantage. But if we can get CatNap on our side, not only will we gain a strong ally, his followers will likely join us as well. Those Mini Critters only serve The Prototype because they’re afraid of CatNap, so chances are they’ll follow CatNap first and foremost.”  

It's a crazy idea, especially considering how devoted CatNap is to The Prototype. But if it works, it may be the key to their success. Cat-Bee hops off the mattress and approaches him before jumping into his lap. He absent-mindedly begins petting her as he falls into thought. 

“I know it sounds crazy… but I have faith that this will work. I can feel it.” 

Cat-Bee meows approvingly, supporting his idea. It brings a smile to his face as he begins petting her more firmly, eliciting a purr from her. 

“At least I have one person who believes in me. Can’t imagine it’s going to be so easy to convince Poppy…” 

He can imagine her explosive reaction the moment he pitches the idea to her. She’s already reluctant about CatNap being alive; there’s no doubt she’ll be fully against trying to have the religious cat join their team. 

Regardless, John isn’t giving up on this just because Poppy won’t like it. He knows CatNap is the key to all this, though he can’t explain why. It’s just a gut feeling, and this time, he’s choosing to trust it rather than the insecure voice in his head. 

It's settled: he’s going to do everything in his power to convince CatNap to join their side.

How hard it can be? 

He gently removes Cat-Bee from his lap before standing up, setting her down on the chair. 

“Whelp, I better get to it.” 

He grabs his Grabpack and begins heading back down towards The Caverns. All the while, he tries to think of how he’s going to persuade CatNap onto his side. 

Hey CatNap, so I know you’re extremely faithful to The Prototype since they saved you when you were a child, and also they technically freed you from your tormentors by orchestrating a genocidal takeover, but what do you think about backstabbing The Prototype?  

…Okay, this might be harder than he thought. 

When he arrives at The Caverns, he immediately notices something is off. 

CatNap isn’t there. 

He checks the dark corner where the giant cat usually resides, and sure enough, the space is empty. A quick search reveals that he isn’t worshipping the shrine either, nor is he perched up on any of the platforms. 

“CatNap?” He calls out, voice echoing across the cave. 

There’s no response. Only still air and the sound of rocks crumbling as the cave settles. 

Where the hell did he go?  

The only other place the cat could have possibly gone to is Playcare. But surely John would have noticed him on the cameras? Unless he missed him somehow… 

He sucks his teeth. Guess he’ll just have to wait for CatNap to return. 

Disappointed, he turns around and leaves. 

CatNap watches the man leave as he hides behind a giant rock below. Without drawing attention to himself, he comes out of his spot and begins to follow the man. He remains undetected as the man navigates through The Schoolhouse, one of the two places to access The Caverns. 

There’s something thrilling about stalking his prey, seeing them slowly unravel as they become more aware of his presence, then striking when they least expect it. But this time, he’s not stalking for hunting purposes. He’s searching for information. Clues that will help him piece together the puzzle that is this man. 

As he watches the man, he takes note of every little action. The way his eyes dart around The Schoolhouse, constantly alert. The weariness in his features as the man struggles to maintain himself. The way his gaze dulls ever so slightly each time he passes a toy corpse. He hasn’t changed much since CatNap first saw him; if anything, the invisible weight on his shoulders appears heavier. That’s not to say he isn’t capable. There are moments where strength appears within the man, the kind that pushes him towards survival, the same kind that allows him to challenge CatNap despite the risks. But that confidence is fleeting, and beneath it all,  something darker lurks. 

Doubt. Uncertainty. Shame. 

It shackles the man, making him a prisoner of his own mind. CatNap can relate to that feeling, even if his reasons are far different. He can’t help but wonder if the man will overcome these self-inflicted obstacles, or if he will succumb to the darkness like the rest of them have. 

The thought is intriguing.   

Soon, the man makes it back to the main area of Playcare. CatNap quickly darts behind the statue before watching the man make his way towards the cable car. Before he can reach it, his telephone rings. The man slows to a stop before answering it. 

“Ollie, hey.” 

CatNap tilts his head. Ollie? He has not heard of that name before. Though he recognizes him as the person who had been guiding the man throughout Playcare, he cannot recall if he’s ever encountered him in person before. 

The man appears to be listening to whatever the person on the phone is saying before he speaks again.  

“Yeah, the train’s fixed. That manual was bogus, by the way, but we got it done. We ordered some pizza, too. Want me to bring you some leftovers?” 

There’s a short pause as the person on the phone presumably replies. 

“…Right, yeah, I know. I just figured you might want to try something different instead of eating the same old rations every day. Mhm… alright, if you say so. Anyway, I’m heading back over to the security room.” 

The man keeps the telephone to his ear as he moves closer to the cable car. 

“…Hm? Yeah, yeah of course. Absolutely. I just—there’s something I have to do first. I wanna try something.” 

As the man reaches for the door handle, he suddenly pauses. CatNap can see the moment where his shoulders stiffen, as if something in the conversation has changed. He watches with growing interest, wondering what the person on the phone said to put the man on edge. 

His question is answered when the man speaks again. 

“…CatNap? What about him?”  

Surprise goes through him at the mention of his name. They're talking about him. His focus is entirely on the man as he listens intently. 

The man sighs heavily. “Look, it’s not what you think. I have a plan. I know this sounds crazy but… what if we can get him to join our side?” 

The gears in his brain grind to a halt. 

Did he just suggest… that CatNap joins their side? 

That can’t be right. He must have misheard. 

But his thoughts are proven to be incorrect as the man begins speaking frantically. 

“Wait, listen, Ollie—uh-huh, yeah, I know, but what if…”  

The man trails off. After a moment, he sighs again. 

“I hear what you’re saying. But I want to give this a shot. Think about how helpful he can be if we gave him a chance.” 

The person on the phone says something that causes the man to scoff.  

 “I am not obsessed with him.” 

A look of frustration appears on the man’s face. He rubs the space between his eyebrows, seemingly giving up on trying to convince the person on the phone. 

“Fine, whatever. Talk to you later. Bye.” 

He hangs up. Taking a deep breath, the man looks up towards the ceiling where fake skies and plastic clouds hang above. It reminds him of a lost soul, turning towards God to offer him guidance, direction. He doesn’t know if the man believes in God, but he imagines that in this moment, he wishes for nothing more than guidance from someone greater than he is. 

After nearly a minute of contemplating, the man enters the cable car. CatNap’s gaze follows the transportation device, an idea forming in his head as he watches the car slowly travel upwards and out of Playcare.  

It would be a shame if his investigation were to end here, now wouldn’t it?  

“Are you insane?” Poppy stands before John in the security room, giving him a critical look as if he’d lost his mind.  

He knew this was coming, but still, he wishes he could’ve avoided this confrontation for a bit longer.  

“Ollie told you?” It’s the only thing he could think to respond with.  

“Of course he told me! Are you seriously trying to convince CatNap to join our side? I know you have a kind heart, but this is ludicrous even for you, John.” 

Something begins to heat up in his chest, a mixture of insecurity, frustration and exhaustion all mixing together into one ugly concoction. 

“Why are you so against my idea?” 

“Because what you’re suggesting is not only dangerous, it’s impossible! CatNap is a violent, remorseless, and unpredictable killer who happens to worship our greatest enemy. What makes you think you can convince him to rebel against The Prototype?” 

“Just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You aren’t even giving him a chance.” 

“He doesn’t want a chance. If he wanted to change, don’t you think he would have done it by now?” 

He swivels around in his chair, turning his back towards the doll as he glares at the desk top. 

Poppy frowns before placing her hands on her hips. “Don’t ignore me, John. We need to talk about this. I know you think I’m being harsh, but it’s for your own good. If you keep chasing CatNap, you’re going to get yourself hurt.” 

“So what? I’ve been getting hurt since the moment I walked into this place.” 

“That’s— that’s different! You were trying to survive, but now it’s like you’re throwing yourself directly into the fire. You’re worrying me, John.” 

“So you’re suggesting that facing The Prototype alone is safer?”  

“You won’t be alone. Kissy Missy, Ollie, and I will all be there with you. I know you’re expecting to handle this all by yourself like you handled the other bosses, but that’s not going to happen. We’re all going to fight The Prototype and get our revenge once and for all.”    

John looks at her over his shoulder, perplexed. “Is that the only thing that matters to you? Revenge?” 

Poppy looks surprised, like she wasn’t expecting that response. “Of course not! I want to free all of us, every person that’s suffered thanks to The Prototype.”  

Something bitter rises inside him. “Not every person. Clearly you only care about the ones who are on your side.” 

Poppy’s expression crumples, sending a strong pang of guilt to his chest. Her voice grows more solemn as she speaks again. “That’s not fair. You have no idea how much pain The Prototype and his followers caused. The death and destruction I see each time I close my eyes. The screams. It haunts me every single day. And you’re asking me to risk it all for someone who doesn’t even care?” 

Guilt weighs heavily on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say—what can he say?  

This was a mistake. He should have never brought this up—no, he should have never came here in the first place. Clearly he’s not cut out for this, and the more he thinks about it, the less confident he is that he’s going to make it out of here alive. 

It feels like he’s suffocating. 

“I just don’t understand,” she continues. “What are you trying to prove—"  

“I don’t know!” John snaps. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I just—I need some space.” 

Poppy grows silent. He doesn’t dare look at her, keeping his gaze locked to the desk top. After a moment, he hears her leaving through the vent. He waits until it’s completely silent before confirming that she’s gone. He rubs his hands across his face, stressed. 

This is too much. 

He misses waking up to a nice cup of coffee. He misses his couch where he watches shows on his busted TV. Heck, he even misses his mundane office job where he’s been working for the past five years. 

What he would do to go back to that simple life. 

His gaze shifts towards the monitors. One of them shows the train parked by the station, currently inactive. 

You can just leave  

He shakes the thought from his head. No, he made a promise he would stay until this was all over. 

…It couldn’t hurt to take a quick step outside, though. Just for a moment. He just needs some fresh air, that’s all.   

No one has to know. 

Giving into temptation, John stands up and heads towards the train. 

If he had been paying attention to the monitors just a moment longer, he would have noticed the cable car slowly ascending towards his location. 

Chapter Text

The exit stands tall before him.

He's nervous. He doesn't know why, there's no reason to be nervous about this. All he's doing is getting some fresh air. Just for a moment, just enough to clear his head.

At least that's what he tells himself.

The truth is, nothing about this feels casual. The atmosphere is ominous, the lobby too quiet like an audience holding their beath. As he stares at the two metal doors, barriers between freedom and madness, he can't help but wonder what the consequences would be should he cross it. He wants to believe that his motivations are pure, that even though he's breaking the rules by crossing that barrier, he fully intends to return once his mind is sufficiently cleared.

Or he could leave.

The thought is so shocking that he physically jolts.

No. He promised he wouldn't leave. He promised.

But the idea is tempting, like a siren beckoning him towards the sea. He feels lured in as he realizes how easy it would be to escape this madhouse, this danger zone, this prison. A dark yet familiar voice whispers in the back of his mind.

Run

It's an intrusive thought, one that he should simply ignore and move on.

But…

Run away, just like you did the first time

The voice taunts him with words he can't refute. He did run away in the past, that's why he's here in the first place. The guilt of what he had done—no, of what he failed to do has haunted him ever since he called out that day, knowing he had no intention of returning to his job even before the disappearance of Playtime Co. employees broke the news.

He's not a hero. He's a coward. Always has been, always will be. He was foolish to think coming here would change that.

He may as well just give up.

His arm feels like lead as he raises it towards the door handle. There's still a part of him that wants to stop, because he knows he's only repeating his mistakes, he knows Poppy and all of his other friends will be devastated once they learn the truth, but he can't help it.

You're selfish

Traitor

Coward

The words weigh down on his soul. It's true, all of it. He just wishes things were different. He wishes he were stronger. Maybe then he could have actually made a difference.

You were always going to fail

His hand settles on the door handle as he prepares to pull—

"Going somewhere, little rat?"

It's as if someone douses ice water on him. The world blinks back into focus, making him hyperaware of the presence standing behind him, the same one who had just spoken to him. Slowly, he turns around.

A smiling face greets him, a mouth far too wide and eyes far too unnatural to be considered human, yet it's familiar all the same.

CatNap is there.

John can't help but stare in disbelief. How long has he been standing there?

CatNap pays no mind to his puzzlement, sitting casually in front of the receptionist desk as he studies John with something critical. Disappointed.

"Looks like you broke your promise after all."

John flinches at that. Something about being accused by the giant cat didn't sit well with him.

"That's not—I was just getting some fresh air."

It's a flimsy excuse, even if that was what he originally intended to do. CatNap isn't fooled, those all-knowing eyes piercing straight through him, making him feel small. Well, smaller.

"You are a poor liar."

The words hang heavy in the air. John looks away, unable to form a response back to that.

An uncomfortable silence ensues as neither of them move.

Before it could get anymore awkward, a knock sounds against the front doors. Startled, John whips his head around. Did he just imagine that? No, that was most certainly a knock. He looks at CatNap to see if he heard it too. One look seems to confirm that the cat had indeed heard the knocking sound.

He moves towards the receptionist desk and looks up at the monitor attached to the ceiling. There’s security footage being displayed that reveals the area right outside the front door. A person is currently standing outside the door. Looking closer, he notices something familiar about this person: it’s a teenage boy, and although he’s not wearing a red uniform, he still recognizes him from before.

The Pizza Delivery Guy.

Something between alarm and incredulity rushes through him.  

“What the hell is he doing here?!” John whisper shouts.

CatNap glances at the monitor with mild interest before looking back at John. Another knock sounds against the door.

“Hello?” Pizza Guy’s voice appears muffled through the front doors. “Anyone home? Weird guy, you there?”

This isn’t good. This person shouldn’t be here. He needs to get him to leave, before things get bad. John turns towards the giant cat still sitting in front of the desk.

“You need to hide.”

CatNap merely tilts his head. Meanwhile, Pizza Guy’s voice continues to speak through the door.

“I know you’re in here, dude. There’s only one other car parked in front of the building, and there’s no way you walked here.”

The knocking converts into banging. At this rate, some other toys were bound to notice the noise coming from the first floor, and they may very well decide to investigate. CatNap is still sitting there in the same spot, seemingly uncaring of the fact that there is an intruder at the door who could potentially see him.

John does something rather ballsy: he attempts to push CatNap away from the room using the Grabpack hands. He doesn’t budge. CatNap looks amused by his efforts. Bastard.

“Helloooo? Can anyone hear me? Come on man, I didn’t drive all the way over here just to be ignored! Are you dead?"

It’s clear that Pizza Guy isn’t going to let up anytime soon. John curses beneath his breath before reapproaching the door. He cracks it open, startling the teenager who looks back at him with wide eyes, likely not expecting him to actually open the door.

“You need to leave,” John says curtly. He attempts to close the door, only for Pizza Guy to shove his foot in the doorway, stopping him.

“Hold on a second!”

Annoyed, John huffs, “What?”

The teenager averts his gaze, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So I know this might sound kind of lame, but I’m gonna be honest here, so like… don’t judge me, okay?”

John blinks, perplexed. Is that seriously his biggest concern right now—being judged? He really is a teenager, he thinks to himself.

Uncertain how else to respond, John offers him a single nod. The teenager seems to accept that response, then proceeds to take a deep breath before speaking.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I mean, not in that way because ew, gross, you’re like an old man—”

“I’m shutting the door.”

“Wait wait, I’m sorry! I’m just so nervous right now, ‘cause like, I’ve never done anything like this before. But ever since you placed that order a couple of days ago, I seriously haven’t been able to sleep straight.”

“You’re out here in this creepy ass abandoned factory in the middle of nowhere, ordering twenty pizzas for a party that obviously never existed, you look like you’ve gotten your ass kicked repeatedly, and then you just—casually shove thousands of dollars at me? Like seriously? And you expect me to just move on after that?”

John grimaces. Yeah, he can see how all of that combined sounds ridiculous, if not suspicious. He hadn’t even thought about how much that interaction affected the teenager.

“None of my friends believed me when I told them what happened,” Pizza Guy continues. “Not that I blame them. None of this makes sense. That’s why I had to come back. Something is clearly going on here and I want answers.”

A sigh passes his lips. “Look kid, if you’re just here to prove something to your friends then—"

“It’s not about that! I just want to know what the hell is going on. Are you a drug dealer? I swear I won’t tell, my buddy Dereck smokes pot which he buys from his dealer all the time.”

John is caught between laughing and crying at the assumption this person makes. If only this situation was as simple as dealing drugs, and wow, that’s not a sentence he ever thought he’d unironically make.  

“I’m not a drug dealer,” John clarifies. “And tell your friend to stop smoking, you’re barely out of high school.”

The teenager has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Whatever, dad. Now can you tell me what’s going on already?”

The obvious answer is no, he can’t. There’s no way he’s dragging an innocent bystander into this mess, not to mention, he’d be risking the lives of everyone here if he were to expose the truth. The safest option would be to send him away, lest he become another victim of this place.

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you. Trust me, it’s for your own good. Now go home.”

He attempts to close the door again, but Pizza Guy is quick to put his foot right back in the doorway. Annoyance begins to throb in his head. Pizza Guy doesn’t seem any less fazed, a determined look appearing on his face.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Kid, I’m warning you right now—”

“I’m not a kid! And I promise I’ll keep it a secret. Come on, I just wanna know what’s—”

Pizza Guy freezes. His face pales, eyes widening, mouth falling agape. He appears to be staring at something behind John. Confused, John turns around.

CatNap is standing there, towering over them. An ominous aura surrounds him as he stares directly at Pizza Guy, his breathing growing heavier. The teenager takes a step back, still in a state of shock as his eyes remain locked on the creature standing tall before him. Before the situation could escalate, John slams the door shut.

There’s a moment of silence. Soon, he hears the teenager scurry off, footsteps becoming distant as he runs away.

Exasperated, John whirls around, facing the giant cat. “What the hell was that?!”

CatNap appears unconcerned. “You needed him to go away. I made him go away.”

“Oh he’ll go away alright. Right after he calls the SWAT team to gun us down!”

“I can always devour him.”

John’s stomach drops. “Wha—no! Absolutely not!”

Just when he thought he had enough issues to deal with, here comes another one. It's like an endless cycle of Whac-A-Mole—no matter how many times he whacks, another problem arises. This one in the form of a nosy teenager who apparently has way too much time on his hands.

He groans, running both hands through his hair. “Oh this is bad, this is so bad.”

What if Pizza Guy snitches? What's that thing called on the internet where people post stuff about their lives—social media? He's heard it's popular with the younger folk, and Pizza Guy falls into that category, so there's a good chance he might post about this on the internet. The last thing they need is for unwanted attention to be drawn towards the factory.

Anxiety buzzes through him as he begins pacing back and forth across the lobby.

“Okay, think think think. He’s more than likely going to tell someone, possibly even the police. I doubt the cops are going to investigate much, though, so we should be okay on that front. He could post about this on the internet, which could be a problem, but then again, he has no proof, who’s going to believe him? I think as long as I keep an eye on the entrance, we should be safe. Maybe I should set up some extra security measures just in case…”

CatNap watches him wordlessly as he paces back and forth. Only after John has calmed down enough does he remember the quiet yet noticeable presence in the room. His feet slow to a stop. Now that the excitement has died down, he can't help but acknowledge the uncomfortable fact that CatNap is here, for some reason, and appears to have fully recovered from his injuries.

An uncomfortable feeling churns in his stomach. The rational part of his brain is telling him that he should be worried. The fact is, CatNap is unpredictable, and while the creature hasn’t killed him yet (not for lack of trying), there's no telling when that may change. He can practically feel the cat's gaze burning into his back, as if sensing his thoughts. His fears.

John pushes the anxiety down. Focus. He turns back around, facing the cat.

"What are you doing up here?"

There's something secretive in CatNap's expression, the way he's watching him like he knows something John doesn’t.

“Roaming.” 

John narrows his eyes suspiciously. All of a sudden CatNap decides to leave Playcare, the one place in which he is the so-called 'guardian' of, just to wander around the factory.

“I have a hard time believing that.”

Having apparently lost interest in this setting, CatNap slowly stands up on all fours, then proceeds to walk past John and into the hallway.

“Believe what you want.”  

He watches the cat stroll towards the main lobby. Before he can leave, John calls out.

“Wait!”

CatNap slows to a stop, his ear twitching once, indicating that he’s listening. He swallows before speaking again.

“Don’t tell Poppy. Please.”

He doesn’t need to clarify what he’s talking about; CatNap knows exactly what he’s referring to. There’s a moment of silence as the cat appears to be thinking. After a few seconds, CatNap turns around to face him.

“I will agree. On one condition.”

John eyes him dubiously. “What is it?”

CatNap walks forward until he’s right in front of him. It takes some willpower not to take a step back as the cat slowly leans forward, his face uncomfortably close, staring him down like a butcher getting ready to dissect.

“Tell me. Why were you running away?”

His muscles become tense. It’s a fair question, and while he isn’t too keen on admitting his weaknesses, he’d still much rather do that than risk Poppy finding out he tried to leave. He averts his gaze.

“…I had an argument with Poppy. She's not a fan of some of the decisions I've been making, and I guess I… started doubting myself.”

He left out some parts, specifically the part where his decisions revolve around CatNap, and whether or not he can convince him to join their side. Obviously, he can’t tell him that. Fortunately, CatNap doesn’t push him for details, studying John as he appears to be thinking something over. Eventually, he pulls away.

"Pathetic."

"Excuse me?"

"Your conviction is weak. You will not last long with such a fragile mindset."

Bitterness arises in his chest, the memories of being tormented by hallucinations resurfacing in his mind. The damage caused by this person, this creature, was irreversible, the four cuts on his chest a constant reminder of that fact.

“Right, like I’m gonna take criticism from the guy who tortures people for fun.”

A low rumble emits from CatNap’s chest, and it takes a moment for John to realize that he’s chuckling, as if he’s amused by John’s bitterness. Bastard. The cat turns back around, sauntering his way towards one of the other rooms.

“It means nothing to me whether you accept my words. Regardless, it is entertaining watching you struggle.”

John goes quiet at that. The way CatNap phrased it makes it seem like he’s impartial to John’s decisions, that he’s only here for entertainment, which… yeah, that makes sense. It’s actually a relief knowing CatNap doesn’t care what John’s stance is, isn’t trying to convince him to do one thing or another, but merely pointing out the facts.

He catches up to the cat, who’s walking with long strides down the hall. CatNap notices how John is struggling to meet his pace, and he actually slows, much to his surprise. There’s an unspoken agreement as they walk side by side. A truce of some sort, that while the both of them are on this floor, away from Playcare and the power struggle between the rebels and The Prototype, there need not be any hostility.

After a moment of contemplation, John breaks the silence. "How am I supposed to have a strong conviction when I'm not even sure if what I'm doing is right?"

CatNap continues looking forward as he responds. “Faith is not rooted by certainty. You must embrace your beliefs if you wish to overcome your weakness. Do not fight yourself."

Surprises flashes through him, his words sinking into his mind. Has he… been fighting himself? The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s true. This whole time he’s been stuck between doing what he believes is right and trying to fulfill Poppy’s wishes.

In reality, neither he nor Poppy truly knows what the right choice is. Poppy is full of anger and a desire to seek vengeance, while John just wants to mend his mistakes in the least violent way possible. Both of them are damaged, with different views on how to best solve this situation. But John isn’t going to back down any longer. As CatNap said, he has to start embracing his beliefs if he wants to become stronger, even if it means disagreeing with his friends.

It's about time he starts trusting himself more.

Resolution solidifies within him as he begins forming a plan.

"I know what I need to do. But it's going to take time. A lot of it."

CatNap’s eyes shift towards him, curious. "Are you certain you won't run away again? Don’t you miss your home?"

The words are challenging, testing his will. This time, John doesn’t fall for it. He’s determined to solve this problem once and for all. No more doubts. No more running.

"I do miss home,” he admits. “But running away isn't going to solve my problems. I came here to make up for my mistakes, and that's what I intend to do. Even if it kills me."

A spark of interest lights in CatNap's eyes. He hums thoughtfully. John isn’t entirely sure what he’s thinking, but he looks pleased, or at least accepting. It’s still difficult to get a read on the mysterious toy cat. At least he’s talking more now.

Maybe this is his chance to convince CatNap to join their side.

…No, not now. It's too soon. This peace between him and CatNap is tentative, fragile. He could easily break it by pushing too far. It’s better to be patient, to warm CatNap up to him before offering to form an alliance. It sounds impossible the more he thinks about it, but then again, he has done the impossible before, why not do it once more?

Besides, he has time.

In his mission to discover more about the man, CatNap has uncovered some interesting things. His first discovery is that the man wishes to convert him over to the side of the rebels. Absurd. As if he would ever join those heretics, what a laughable thought.

Though he has to admit, he’s curious to see what the man will do in order to persuade him.

So far the man has proven to be an overthinker. Someone who desperately seeks to maintain control. His lack of confidence coupled with his need to plan out everything suggests that the man is afraid of failure. It would be easy to prey on those insecurities, to pick him apart and watch him suffer. But that would be boring; after all, he’s done that before. He’s more curious to see what the man will do when he’s motivated.

As CatNap enters the warehouse, his eyes begin scanning for potential prey. Toys, especially little ones, are good at hiding. He must rely on his predatory skills if he wishes for his hunger to abate. He approaches the tall shelves, peeking between the gaps of the cardboard boxes. Behind him, the man enters the room, watching him apprehensively.

“You’re not planning on hunting again, are you?” says the man.

“Yes.” He picks up a box, examining in, then after deeming it empty he tosses it aside.

The man grimaces. “Please don’t. I told you I can get you food.”

"It is not just hunger. It is the hunt. It thrills me."

"That's… messed up.”

“How so?”

“It’s cruel.”

There he goes again with that strange behavior, that… kindness. Doesn't he realize his morals are useless here?"

“The strongest must survive. The weak must fall. That is the will of The Prototype.”

The man frowns, looking off to the side.

"Seems unnecessary to me."

"It is nature."

"Maybe, but this isn't the wild. It doesn't have to be kill or be killed."

CatNap cocks his head. What an odd little person.

"You are a curious thing, little rat."

"Will you stop calling me that? My name is John."

CatNap chuckles at that, humored, then proceeds to search through more boxes. As the seconds pass, the man begins wandering the room himself, picking up one box in particular while squinting at it. CatNap isn’t paying him much attention, more focused on locating his prey.

“Have you spoken to The Prototype lately?”

He halts, a cold feeling running through him. He's painfully reminded that The Prototype has not communicated with him since his failure. It’s been difficult trying to cope with being ignored by his savior. It’s his punishment for allowing the man to get away, and he knows it, he deserves the pain, he does, but he just wishes his savior would speak to him again, to tell him what to do so he doesn’t have to think.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing there quietly until he hears the man speak again.

"…I'm guessing that's a no."

His voice drags him from his thoughts. He shakes the unwelcomed thoughts from his head, continuing to distract himself as he sifts through the shelves.

“It does not matter. I will still follow his will.”

"Right…"

He doesn't notice the man carrying the box that he picked up towards the exit. As he shakes the box, a little toy clumsily falls out, startled. The man shoos them away, allowing them to scamper off right before CatNap turns his head. The man quickly discards the box, his expression appearing innocent, which only makes him look more suspicious. Before CatNap can question him, the man changes the subject.

"Sooo is this like, your daily routine? Sleep, hunt, serve The Prototype?"

"…Yes."

"Have you ever thought about doing something else? You know, something fun?"

"Hunting—"

"Yeah yeah, I know you enjoy hunting, but I meant something else. A hobby. Preferably non-deadly."

The question catches him off guard. Truthfully, he hasn't done any sort of leisure activity in a while. There were times when he would… reminiscence the life he had before his creation. Before he became the priest. He'd carve pictures into the floorboards, similar to the drawings he once made long ago. It was never the same, but for a moment, he could pretend that he was still that same person, could imagine himself as an innocent child and not an abomination. The feeling was often bittersweet.

Other than that, he doesn’t have any hobbies, not since a long time ago.

"…I have not considered it," he eventually answers.

For a moment, the man is silent. CatNap becomes strangely aware of himself. He knows it's unusual to not have any interests or hobbies, but doesn't think about that very often. Things like that were trivial, a waste of time. He could be worshipping his savior instead of doing something as meaningless as carving pictures into the floorboards. So why does he feel so out of place? As if it matters what the man thinks. He’ll most likely criticize him, he’s certain of it.

He waits with bated breath to hear the man’s response. The words that come next are entirely unexpected.

"I used to be into fitness."

Surprise flashes through him. He turns around to see the man leaning against the wall, looking back at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Before I started working here. I think it started… what, sometime during high school? Anyway, I was all about exercising—running was actually my favorite. Ironic, I know."

A chuckle falls from the man’s lips. CatNap’s ear twitches involuntarily, intrigued.

"I started exercising more when I got into college,” the man continues. “Even thought about becoming an athlete, then I realized, that's way too intense for me. Also considered becoming a fitness instructor, but I'm not a very good teacher. Eventually I just decided I enjoyed it more as a hobby. I liked taking care of myself, working out, eating healthy. Feeling the sun on my face and the wind in my hair as I run. It made me feel present. Alive."

There’s a softness in his features that he’s never seen before. CatNap doesn’t even realize when he stopped hunting, his attention absorbed by the man as he describes his passion.

"Why did you stop?" CatNap inquires.

The man readjusts himself so that he’s leaning more comfortably, arms crossed. "After my second year, I dropped out of college. It just… didn't work out the way I hoped. I ended up having to move back in with my parents for half a year, which sucked. Got a part-time job, worked my ass off, then finally I was able to move out into my own apartment. I started working out less then. Just didn't have the time or energy for it."

"Fast forward to some years later, I got hired here. A delivery guy for Playtime Co., in charge of bringing in shipments to different parts of the factory. Not the most exciting job, but it paid the bills so I couldn't complain. I'm sure you know what happened next..."

"You left."

He nods solemnly. "I left. After that, I stopped working out altogether. Got lazy, would spend most of my days watching TV and eating junk food. It didn't help that my new job is working in an office; not a lot of physical activity going on in there. And after everything that happened, all my motivation just sort of… faded away."

A melancholy air surrounds the man, his gaze becoming distant. CatNap continues to observe, invested in the man’s story, in his honest display of emotions, something besides fear. The way he speaks of average, everyday things such as college and moving out of his parents’ home. Growing up and facing hardships along the way. A concept so normal yet foreign to CatNap.

After a moment, the man pushes himself off the wall. "Anyway, that was a long time ago. Got bigger things to worry about now. And who knows? Maybe if I survive this, I’ll try getting back into fitness. It would be nice to start running again.”

That’s the end of the discussion. CatNap has discovered several things about the man. He’s an overthinker. He rejects nature. He has an unreasonable desire to help others yet struggles to help himself. He’s stubborn and clumsy and foolish. In other words, he’s flawed.

He’s also kind. He went to college. He’s had multiple jobs, his current one being in an office. His eyebrows bunch together when he’s concentrating and his hands move more freely when he’s relaxed. He enjoys the sunlight on his face and the wind in his air. Feeling present, being alive. All these little details that mean nothing and yet, he can’t help but commit each one to his memory.

That man... John.

He’s looking forward to seeing what other surprises he’ll bring.

Today has been exhausting, to say the least. Between the argument with Poppy, Pizza Guy's unexpected appearance, and the revelation he had while speaking with CatNap, it's been an emotional roller-coaster. That’s not to say he regrets it. Drama aside, he needed a wake-up call. Now that his mind is clearer, he can start doing what he originally planned to do: fixing the damage he and the rest of the company caused.

Sometime during the day, he manages to set up an additional monitor connecting to the security camera outside the main entrance. He also includes a two-way speaker system, this way he can not only see, but hear anyone who approaches the main entrance from the security room. This added form of security should keep him alerted should any trespassers wander towards the factory. He can rest easy tonight knowing the factory is now a tad bit more secure.

Tomorrow, the real work begins.

He's just about to head to bed when he notices two headlights piercing through the night on the front door monitor. A familiar bright red car pulls into the driveway, causing a brief flash of panic to go through him because what the hell, this guy again? He watches as Pizza Guy—and man he really wishes he could stop calling him ‘Pizza Guy’ but he doesn’t know the kid’s name—gets out of his car. Then he opens the truck and begins pulling out what appears to be... groceries?

“What in the world...” John mumbles as he watches the teen approach the factory. He drops the bags in front of the door and proceeds to knock.

"Yo, I'm back,” the teen announces through the speaker. “You there, old man?"

Bewildered, he presses the button that activates his side of the speaker system, then replies. "You better have a good reason why you're here."

The teen looks up at the security camera, a smug look appearing on his face. "As a matter a fact, I do. Check it."

He gestures towards the grocery bags lying on the ground. It takes a moment for the implication to fully register.

"Are those… supplies?"

"Bingo. I got a bunch more bags in the trunk, but you're gonna have to come get 'em because I ain't lugging all that stuff around again."

“Is this a joke?”

“Does it look like I’m joking? You know how long it took me to grab all this stuff? Then there was this lady who nearly ran me over with her cart, and don’t get me started on what happened in the parking lot—”

"Hold on, hold on. Just—wait there, I'm coming over."

After almost twenty minutes of travel, he makes it to the front entrance. He opens the door, now face-to-face with Pizza Guy as the light above the door shines down, illuminating him. The teenager regards him cooly, posture slouched and hands shoved into his pockets. Surprisingly, he looks way calmer than John would have expected.

"Hey," is all the teen says.

John takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the headache he was no doubt going to have after this conversation, then lets it go.

"I'm going to assume you have an explanation for all this."

The teen shrugs. "Pretty self-explanatory. I used the money you gave me to buy food for you and your uh... cat monster thing, and whatever other Frankenstein friends you got hanging around in there.”

John feels as if he’s dissociating, struggling to comprehend this person standing in front of him. Not only are his actions severely questionable, he’s acting as if none of this bothers him. As if it’s just a normal occurrence to witness a living, breathing toy.

I must be losing my mind.

“…How do you know there are others?” John eventually questions.

“You ordered twenty pizzas. It’s not rocket science.”

“You don’t know if CatNap ate them all himself.”

“Is that its name?”

“His name. And yes, it is...” John crosses his arms. “Why are you helping me?”

The teenager shifts his weight, looking simultaneously annoyed and uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. I guess it just looked like you needed it.”

A sense of déjà vu passes over him. Because you look like you could use some help. That’s the same thing he said to CatNap. Conflicting thoughts go through his head as John falls silent.

The teenager notices this and huffs impatiently. "Listen, I don't know what's going on in there, but whatever it is, I can tell it’s wearing you down. You looked like shit the first time I saw you. Why can’t you just accept that I want to help?”

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We’re strangers. This isn’t a game, kid. Go home.”

The words sound harsh coming out of his mouth. Still, he has to remain firm. It’s for his own good. The guy has no idea of the horrors that lie within the factory, a constant stream of death and decay that never seems to end. John has experienced firsthand the dangers that come with facing the experiments created by Playtime Co. It would be irresponsible to allow an innocent person into that same world of danger, and he could never forgive himself if something were to happen to him.

The teenager is quiet, eyes lowered to the ground and shoulders hunched. There’s a moment of silence as they stand beneath the night sky, crickets chirping in the forest nearby. A moth circles around the light above the door. The bags of groceries remain undisturbed on the ground, its contents secured within the plastic.

“…It’s Lucas.”

John blinks as he hears the teenager suddenly speak. “What?”

“My name. It’s Lucas. And I never thought this was a game. I mean sure, I did think it was a prank at first. But once I saw you, I knew it wasn’t. And yeah, maybe it’s none of my business, but…”

He trails off. The teen—Lucas is still staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact. He’s scared, John realizes. As much as the teenager pretends to be apathetic, it’s clear that what he saw has affected him greatly. He probably thought John was dying when he first saw him, beaten, starving, and exhausted.

A pang of guilt hits his chest. He sighs softly, letting his arms drop to the side.

“I'm John. You’re a good person, Lucas. But it’s dangerous for you to be here. I can’t risk you getting killed because I let you stay.”

Lucas’ gaze flickers back towards John, surprised. “Geez... What kind of messed up situation have you gotten yourself into?”

He chuckles dryly. “You have no idea.”

“If you really want me to leave and never come back, I will. But just so you know, I’m not asking you to put my life in danger. I’m just offering some support.”

“Support?”

“For your food situation. I can keep delivering stuff. You gave me like, ten grand, which I was going to use to upgrade my car, but I guess that can wait...”

John considers it. As much as he didn’t want to involve anyone else in this mess, he has to admit that the lack of food is a serious issue, and having an outside source bring them a steady supply would be extremely helpful…

He turns his attention to the bags of groceries on the ground. Crouching down, he looks through them: canned fruit and vegetables, instant noodles, granola bars, beef jerky, frozen meals… He takes note of each product, calculating ways to store and distribute them amongst the toys.

"I didn't really know what to get,” Lucas says, observing him as he rummages through the bags. “Hope this is okay."

He stands back up. "No, this is good. Thank you."

Lucas turns his head away, trying and failing to hide the light blush on his cheeks. "'S no problem.”

After one last moment of consideration, John takes another deep breath, exhaling loudly. "I’m not gonna say that I approve of you being here. Even if you remain outside, it’s still a risk having you near the factory. But... if you really don’t mind delivering food every now and then… I’ll allow it.”

Lucas’ face lights up. “Wait, foreal? Hell yeah, thanks John!”

His enthusiasm catches John off guard. He offers a smile, though it’s a bit awkward.

“You’re welcome, I guess? Just don’t get too comfortable, and remember what I said. This place is dangerous.”

“Mhm, yep, got it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything reckless. I’ll just pop up every now and then to drop off supplies, and in return, you have to tell me all the secrets you got hidden in that factory, including those freaky toy monsters.”

“Wait a minute, that’s not what I—”

“Too late, you already agreed. Now hurry up and come get the rest of these groceries, my parents will throw a fit if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes.”

John can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. This guy was certainly stubborn, but at least he now has another ally. This will definitely help their food situation at least for the time being. He’ll have to come up with a long-term system in the future, especially if he wants this new plan to work, the one he came up with during his conversation with CatNap.

He’s not afraid to commit to this anymore. Coward or not, it doesn’t matter. He’s choosing to trust himself. To stick with his beliefs.

No more running away

This time, he’s staying for good.

Chapter Text

A little boy sneaks across the grounds of Playcare.

The lights are off, the factory’s poor attempt at simulating nighttime. While the other children sleep, Theodore and his partner are enacting a plan to free everyone. He’d always dreamed of escaping this place, especially after learning the truth about the adults from his partner, the metal claw who hides underneath his bed and tells him secrets no other children in Playcare knows.

His heart is racing yet full of hope. They’re so close. Just a little further.

It isn’t long before they reach the maintenance door. The key to unlocking the elevator, and thus…

Freedom.

It requires two people to activate the door. Just as they planned, his partner activates one side and waits for Theodore to activate the other. Using the Grabpack he’d stolen, he shoots the Green Hand at an electrical current, then shoots it directly onto the receiver near the door.

Once powered, the door slowly opens, bright light flooding from within. He stares in a mixture of awe and disbelief. He’s prayed for this moment and now, thanks to his partner, his dreams are finally coming true. Excitement bubbling in his chest, he carelessly tries to remove the Grabpack while the Green Hand is still electrified.

The mistake is made before he realizes it.

The moment he touches the Green Hand, electricity zaps through his body. He screams as burning pain sears through him. Within seconds, his body collapses.

His partner turns around as he hears Theodore screaming. Before his vision fades to dark, he sees the claw desperately running towards him. White light illuminates the claw from behind, making him look almost ethereal, like the angels he’s read about in his stories, the ones he prays to at night right before he goes to bed.

One final thought passes his mind, a whisper more powerful than any voice he’s ever heard.

…God?

…

…

Everything goes black.

Log Date: 11-20-1990

Awareness comes to him slowly yet sharply. His entire body aches, a throbbing pain radiating from his head. On instinct, he tries to open his eyes, but strangely they are already open. Flat shapes and dull colors gradually fill his vision until soon, he becomes cognizant of his surroundings.

A small, dimly lit room made of four padded walls. On the wall furthest from him lies a large metal door, and on the right wall there’s a long rectangular mirror. He doesn’t recognize this place nor does he remember how he got there.

Alarmed, he quickly rises to his feet, only to lose his balance and fall back onto the floor with a grunt. Something doesn’t feel right. His body feels… off.

He looks down at himself, but instead of the human fingers and hairless skin he was expecting to see, he’s greeted by the sight of purple paws and short fur. The fur goes beyond his wrists, up his abnormally long arms and across the rest of his body. Shocked, he stands again, this time more carefully, and approaches the mirror on all four paws.

He flinches at the sight of his reflection.

A creature he doesn’t recognize stares back at him, eyes a bottomless pit with two glowing white irises hovering within. His mouth is constantly open wide with no tongue or teeth to speak of, only an endless void. His limbs appear to be stitched to his torso, and it’s then that he begins to recognize the resemblance of a large stuffed animal, more specifically a cat if the pointy ears, triangular nose, and long tail are any indication.

Is that me?

A metal zipper starts from his chest down to the top of where his naval would be, a golden moon-shaped pendant dangling from the slider. Nothing about him appears to be human. But what else could he be—a toy? That’s impossible. Toys aren’t alive. He must be human, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Something must have happened to make him look this way, like… a freak.

He tries to recall what happened, but his memory is blurry, broken fragments that he can’t seem to piece together without worsening his headache. Something heavy hangs around his neck. A collar? He reaches up to touch it, cool metal brushing against his fingertips. It does not feel comfortable nor is it fashionable.

Multiple footsteps appear on the other side of the mirror, breaking him from his thoughts. His head immediately snaps to attention. He can’t see anything other than his reflection through the mirror, but he assumes there are three, maybe four people standing on the other side.

“It appears Experiment 1188 is awake,” an unfamiliar voice says through a speaker. “About time. I was beginning to wonder if the transition had failed after all. It took longer to bring him back to life than the others.”

The words sound completely foreign to his ears. Experiment? Brought back to life? The more he thinks about it, the less sense it makes. Still, he assumes whatever it is they’re talking about must be related to him.

“I’m sure you’re confused.” The voice appears to be addressing him now. “Tell us, do you remember what happened?”

He slowly shakes his head.

“That’s to be expected. Allow me to explain. Your name is Theodore Grambell, but for now on, you will go by ‘CatNap.’ You were designed to serve the denizens of Playcare, a place where abandoned children are raised until we can find a suitable home for them. Your job is to follow our instructions and fulfill your purpose as a guardian.”

...Theodore? CatNap? The former feels familiar, the latter not so much. The strange man’s words only confuse him more as he struggles to comprehend this situation.

“For the first few days, you will be monitored to ensure your new body is working properly. Afterwards, you will be assigned several different tasks that you must complete. Once you have successfully completed all of your tasks and you’ve been cleared from testing, you will be assigned your new role as guardian of Playcare. Do you understand?”

He doesn’t understand, not really. A million thoughts plague his mind, but he doesn’t dare speak any of them. He doesn’t trust these strangers, and furthermore, he’s always been a believer, can feel it deep down inside even if he can’t remember much about himself. No matter what happens, he has faith something or someone of a higher power is watching over him.

So he won’t complain, or question it, or give any indication of doubt. He will simply trust in the higher power above and hope that they will offer him guidance.

It’s all he can do.

His silence does not go unnoticed by the people behind the glass as they once again attempt to evoke a response from him.

“You are free to speak now. Did you understand what I just explained to you?”

No response.

He can sense the confusion on the other side, the main person seemingly turning towards his colleagues as he speaks in a hushed tone.

“...Is his voice box broken? Forget it, we’ll look into it later. Let us begin testing.”

A moment after he says that, a loud creak is heard through the room. He turns his head to see the large metal door opening. Multiple human beings enter the room wearing strange yellow hazmat suits. A few more people enter behind them, these ones wearing lab coats, faces unhidden. Scientists, he realizes, though he does not recognize any of their faces.

It all happens quickly. They test his reflexes, his eye movements, his balance. A stethoscope is placed against his chest as they listen to his heartbeat, and shortly after they test his blood pressure. At one point, a scientist takes out a syringe and punctures his arm, drawing blood. He doesn’t recall ever being afraid of needles but in this moment, he discovers that he does not like the feeling of being poked and prodded.

It’s an uncomfortable process, but most of it was fairly harmless. Before he realizes it, the tests are over. The scientists write things down in their clipboard, presumably the results of his tests. They don’t speak to him directly unless they’re giving him instructions so he can only assume he did what he was supposed to do.

One of the people in the hazmat suits brings him a tray of food. Once delivered, the group leaves the room, shutting the metal door behind them with a ‘click’. He examines the items on the tray. Some kind of greyish processed meat, a piece of bread, and a side of unidentifiable mush. It looks less than appetizing.

He attempts to pick up the tiny plastic spork, but struggles to hold it with his large paw. Eventually, he gives up and eats straight from the tray.

It tastes bland.

Log Date: 11-21-1990

He is escorted to another room by the strangers in the hazmat suits, who he has come to realize are his ‘handlers.’ The new room is full of machines and devices, some that he recognizes while others were unfamiliar. One of these machines happened to be a giant treadmill. The scientists explain that they will be testing his speed and endurance. Not seeming to have much of a choice, he steps onto the treadmill and begins the test.

He is surprisingly fast, much faster than a normal human being because you are not human. But after several minutes of nonstop running, he begins to grow weary. The scientists pay no mind to it, ordering him to keep running for as long as possible. He does not know what will happen should he choose to disobey, nor is he willing to find out.

His heart pounds against his chest, legs burning from exertion. He knows he’s pushing past his limit, but he’s too afraid to stop. Dozens of stoic faces are observing him, their sharp gazes cold enough to send chills through his body. It’s as if he’s a hamster on a wheel, pushing and pushing until he breaks.

At some point, he collapses on the treadmill, panting as sweat drips from his nose. Nausea develops in his stomach as he becomes lightheaded. He can vaguely hear the scientists discussing his results while he recovers.

“Not as long as we expected him to last, but considering it’s only day two since his awakening, I’m certain he’ll improve with time.”

“Indeed. Not to mention, he’s already faring better than Experiment 1186 and 1187—they could barely move when we first began testing. I think this version of CatNap will truly be the one.”

His ear twitches at the mention of other experiments. He hadn’t even considered that there were others like him. Where are they? What happened to them? He isn’t given much time to ponder before he’s being directed to his next exercise.

After a while, he’s escorted back to his room, sore and exhausted.

He is again rewarded with bland food.

Log Date: 11-25-1990

After days of nonstop tests, both physical and medical, the scientists mention that they are granting him a special gift, something called ‘The Red Smoke’.

He does not know what this means.

He is escorted to a room with medical equipment and strange lighting. A surgical room. In the center of the room is a long metal table. His handlers instruct him to lie down with his back against the table, which he does, the surface cold and uncomfortable. Once he’s on the table, they strap him down, keeping him in place. His stomach gnaws with uncertainty.  

As he watches the scientists put on their rubber gloves and surgical masks, the reality of what’s about to happen kicks in. He struggles against the bindings, ignoring whatever these people are saying to him. He doesn’t like this. He wants to leave.

As he squirms against the table, a scientist pulls out a syringe and swiftly injects it into his arm. He hisses, but before he can retaliate, the world starts to become slower, sluggish. Within seconds, he passes out.

When he wakes up again, his throat feels incredibly raw and painful.

“You have been gifted a special ability,” a scientist explains. “With this new modification you are now able to dispense the red smoke on command. We will begin testing it shortly.”

A part of him wants to scream because WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME WHY DOES MY THROAT HURT PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN STOP but he doesn’t. He will not give into despair. He must hold onto his faith no matter how much it hurts. He must.

He’s brought to his cell room directly after the surgery. The scientists begin preparing to test the red smoke, though he isn’t certain how they’re supposed to be testing him exactly.

A grim answer befalls him the moment the door opens. Two handlers drag in a small, yellow bunny toy. Only… it’s a person. Living, breathing, just like him. He can hardly believe his eyes as the tiny person stares up at him with undeniable fear in his black beady eyes.

“Your task is simple. When I say ‘begin’, you are to administer the red smoke onto the subject.”

He turns towards the one-way mirror and tilts his head, hoping the scientists would at least explain what the red smoke does. They do not. It seems they are expecting him to find out himself.

“Begin.”

He looks at the small toy again. The bunny is visibly frightened, his entire body vibrating as stares up at him pleadingly. A sinking feeling goes through his stomach, his throat feeling thicker, constricted.

“I said you may begin.”

There’s impatience in his tone. After some hesitation, he reluctantly begins to activate the red smoke. The process feels strangely natural, like pulling a switch. He can feel something pouring from his lungs before rising out of his windpipe, then finally, a red gas dispenses from his mouth. It spreads throughout the room and inevitably reaches the bunny, who is still hyperventilating and thus breathing in the gas.

Suddenly, the bunny’s breathing begins to slow, his body swaying back and forth. Within seconds, he collapses onto the floor, unconscious.

He stares at the unconscious toy in shock.

Did I… do that?

The bunny doesn’t move, his small body laying still against the padded floor. If he weren’t breathing, you would almost think he looked… dead. The thought sends a shudder down his spine.

“The sleeping effects appear to be working properly,” the scientist says, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Bring in the next subject.”

They bring in more of them. Toy after toy, each one slightly bigger than the last. And each time, he puts them to sleep with the red smoke.

It feels wrong. Disgusting. But he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t even close his eyes, forced to face each terrified creature as they fall unconscious against their will.

That night, he’s haunted by the images of terrified faces and the sounds of collapsing bodies.

Log Date: 11-26-1990

This ‘gift’ proves to be more of a curse than anything. For whatever reason, the scientists are heavily invested in his ability to use the red smoke. He hates it. But once again, he has no choice.

Today they bring in a new subject to test the red smoke. He assumes it will be another living toy. When the door opens, only one handler is there, and it isn’t a toy they bring in.

It’s a child.

She’s small and dainty, wearing a long pink dress and pigtails. There’s a blindfold covering her eyes as the handler guides her into the room, quietly assuring her that she’s doing a great job, and that it’ll all be over soon. The girl seems lost but obedient, following the handler with literal blind trust as he brings her to the center of the room, right in front of him.

His heart stops.

“Begin.”

His body feels frozen. He stares at the little girl, blindfolded and confused. She looks so innocent. All he can picture is her face stricken with terror the moment she sees him, her body losing its energy until she can no longer hold her eyes open, the echoes of her body hitting the floor like a sack of meat.

He doesn’t realize his breathing has started to grow heavier, his body trembling uncontrollably. The little girl turns her head in confusion, oblivious to the monster standing right in front of her. He takes a step back.

“CatNap. Begin.”

He can’t.

He shakes his head, refusing.

The scientists whisper something to each other. After what feels like eternity, they finally remove the child out of the room. The relief is short-lived as seconds later, his collar lights up. It’s the only warning he gets before an electric shock zaps through his body.

A shriek tears from his throat, unbearable pain flooding his senses. Memories flash through his head—a skyless night, a door, freedom, a green hand, searing pain, a bright light, the claw, The Claw, THE CLAW, darkness—before the electricity suddenly stops. His body collapses heavily.

“Failure to follow the rules will result in punishment. A new test subject will be brought in tomorrow. Do not fail.”

He barely registers those words, his ears ringing. Everything hurts. He wants to cry, but something stops him from doing so. Stubbornness, perhaps. Or maybe he’s no longer capable, the same way he isn’t capable of shutting his eyes and escaping this place.

They do not feed him that night.

Log Date: 11-27-1990

He prays.

He’s done it before, even if he cannot remember. In the quiet of the night, when all others are asleep and the only presence remaining are the holy spirits watching him from above, he folds his hands together and he prays. It brings him a sense of peace knowing someone might be listening, that despite how much he’s suffered, at least he isn’t alone, because someone is watching over him. Perhaps he will meet that someone, though he has a feeling he already has.

The scientists announce that they are bringing in another subject. He doesn’t think he can go through with it, is not sure how much more of this he can take. Dread fills his stomach as the door opens and multiple handlers step inside. Pretty soon the ‘subject’ walks through the door, and instantly he notices something different about him. He’s not just a toy, he’s…

A dog. A big one, like himself, with long floppy ears and a rounded nose. His fur consists of two different shades of orange aside from his stomach and muzzle, which were yellow. He has a sun-shaped pendant hanging from his zipper, and around his neck is a collar just like his own. Are they forcing him to do things too?

The dog is guided towards the center of the room. He looks nervous, eyes darting back and forth before settling on him. Once the handler leaves the room, the two of them face each other. The dog is standing on two feet instead of four paws, compelling him to do the same, matching his height. The dog doesn’t comment on this, though his expression does seem to soften somehow, his paw lifting as he offers a small, friendly wave.

“Hi, I’m DogDay,” he whispers.

A flicker of surprise passes through him. DogDay. It sounds similar to CatNap, which he supposes is his name now. CatNap doesn’t speak, though he does offer him a small wave back. DogDay’s expression appears to light up.

“You’re new here, right? I know it’s a little scary at first, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It’s been a few months since I first got here, and trust me when I say, it gets better.”

He finds that hard to believe. Still, DogDay’s words bring him comfort. It’s the nicest thing anyone has said to him since this all started. The moment is broken as they hear the voice of the scientist coming from the speaker.

“Begin.”

His muscles tense. No, not again. He’s finally found another person just like him; he even learned his name. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. What if DogDay hates him after he realizes what a monster he is?

DogDay seems to notice his hesitation, eyes flickering nervously to the mirror before looking back at him.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just gonna put me to sleep, right? Just a little nap, it won’t hurt me. You can do it.”

His words of encouragement seem to calm him down. He looks at DogDay again, searching for any signs of deceit. When he finds none, he takes a deep breath, then releases the red smoke. He sees the moment the effects start to kick in, DogDay’s body slightly swaying. Then slowly, he sinks to the floor, passing out.

He hears the scientists cheer behind the glass.

“It even works on the bigger bodies. Amazing!”

“It will be a long while until we introduce Experiment 1188 to Playcare. In the meantime, we’ll continue to keep an eye on his progress.”

“What about DogDay?”

“Leave him. 1175 has always been good at helping the other experiments—perhaps he’ll help 1188 come out of his shell, become more familiar with his role.”

He hears the footsteps fade as the scientists leave the area. Once they’re gone, CatNap takes a moment to observe DogDay. His chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm, his eyes still open yet somehow, he looks peaceful. There's a faint scent of warm vanilla drifting from him. He wonders if that's a natural part of him—it seems fitting with his bright colors and sunny disposition.

CatNap continues to watch him sleep as he lays down beside DogDay, tail wrapping around him protectively. A faint memory appears in his mind, the same one that appeared during his punishment. A shadowy figure in the shape of a claw, rushing towards him as bright light shines in the background.

He’s always been a believer. Whether he’s Theodore Grambell, CatNap, both, neither, it doesn’t matter. He knows that shadowy figure is still out there, the same person who appears in his dreams, who echoes in the back of his mind as he lies within the padded walls of his cell. His hope, his freedom, it all comes from that person he once called partner.

Something rolls down his face. Tears, only they’re red. He doesn’t question it. Instead, he whispers to DogDay a promise.

“God will save us.”

With that, he falls asleep, dreaming of sunshine and vanilla ice cream.

Chapter Text

The morning after John establishes an alliance with Lucas, he calls his friends to the security office for a meeting. As he sits in his chair, elbows planted on his knees and fingertips pressed together, he regards each individual in the room sternly. To his left, Cat-Bee is idly licking her paw, to his right, Kissy Missy is sitting with her legs tucked together, and at the very center is Poppy, standing with her arms crossed.

“So here’s the deal,” John begins, “If I’m going to continue to help, then from now on, we’re doing things my way. No more killing. No more going straight for The Prototype. Understood?”

Cat-Bee stops licking her paw to mew in agreement. That’s one out of three. He looks to his right to see Kissy Missy appearing uncertain, rubbing her arm while tossing indiscreet glances towards Poppy. The aforementioned doll is silent, blue eyes staring at him directly with an unreadable expression. He doesn’t back down, choosing to stare right back at her, waiting for her to protest so he can deliver his own counterargument.

But instead of shooting his idea down immediately like he expected, she surprises him with a question.

“So what exactly is the alternative?” says Poppy.

A fair question, all things considered. Thankfully John is prepared. After all, he’s been forming this plan ever since he decided to stop running away, for good this time.

“Instead of focusing on The Prototype, I suggest we focus on something much more beneficial: rehabilitation. Think about it, even if we get rid of The Prototype, many of our problems aren’t going to be solved. Toys are starving, depressed, damaged. But there’s a good chance we can help them by addressing these issues, starting with…”

He pulls a granola bar out of his pocket and dramatically reveals it to the group.

“A food pantry.”

The three toys gape at the granola bar in surprise. He can’t help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction as Poppy stares at him in disbelief.

“Where did you get that?”

“Remember the guy who delivered us pizza? Turns out he’s agreed to help us—don’t ask why. The important part is that he’ll be dropping off supplies once every week, which should be enough to feed the residents of Playcare, if not the whole factory. The first delivery is sitting in the maintenance room as we speak.”

Poppy rubs her chin thoughtfully. “I… guess that could work. I never really thought about rehabilitating the toys, but now that you mention it…”

He can tell he’s getting somewhere. This is good. Now all he needs to do is drive it home.

“I have faith that this will work. We all want what’s best for the toys, and this… this is the answer.”

Poppy’s brows scrunch together, conflicted. “But what if The Prototype tries to stop us? You’re aware that if he continues growing stronger, we won’t be able to stop him from killing us all.”

“It’s a risk we have to take. Besides, he hasn’t shown himself in a while, so who knows, maybe he’s given up?”

“Don’t let your guard down, John. Just because he hasn’t shown himself doesn’t mean he’s no longer a threat. If anything, the fact that he hasn’t shown himself lately should be more concerning. It means he’s plotting.”

The graveness in her voice catches him off guard. He knows she hates The Prototype, but to hear such vindictiveness in her voice sends chills down his spine. It won’t change his mind, but he has to acknowledge that she does have a point.

“You may be right,” John replies. “But I’m not gonna cower just because The Prototype might be planning something. I have no doubt he’ll try to stop us, and we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, but in the meantime, there’s people around us who desperately need our help. Let’s do our best.”

Poppy looks at her friends. Cat-Bee slowly blinks and nods. Kissy Missy offers her a thumbs up.

Finally, the doll takes a deep breath, then exhales. “Oh, alright. Let’s give it a shot.”

The moment he hears those words, his body sinks with relief. That went better than I expected. Now that that’s over, the real work can begin.  

Starting today, they’re going to make a difference.

They set up the pantry in front of the statue at the very center of Playcare. It isn’t the most fancy set up—their stand consists of an old wooden table, a birthday-themed tablecloth, and a sign that says ‘Food Pantry’ written in crayon—but it gets the point across. Behind the stand, dozens of paper bags are lined up, each one containing a granola bar, fruit cup, peanut butter crackers, and beef jerky. They’ve also elected to incorporate mini water bottles, because it doesn’t hurt to include them even if the toys aren’t required to drink fluids.

“You really think this will work?” Poppy gives him an apprehensive look as she stands on top of the wooden table. She’s only slightly bigger than the paper bags, John notes amusedly.

“I do,” he replies. “Now all we have to do is wait for them to come to us.”

So they wait. It isn’t very long before toys begin to take notice of the stand. They’re hesitant, slinking behind objects as if they’re too afraid to come out in the open, yet curiosity compels them.

Eventually, a brave toy steps out of the shadows. It’s not a toy he recognizes off the bat—some kind of brightly colored sock monkey not popular enough to make it onto the posters. His beady eyes constantly dart between John and the paper bags stacked on top of the wooden table.

In hopes of being less intimidating, John crouches down before the little ape and offers him a reassuring smile.

“Hey there. You hungry? Here, take this.”

He grabs one of the paper bags, purposefully moving slow so as to not startle the toy, and offers it. The sock monkey glances between the gift and John with uncertainty, as if to say for me?

“Go on. It’s yours.”

With gentle encouragement, the toy finally reaches its fingerless hands out and accepts the bag. He peeks inside. John sees the moment the monkey’s expression changes from uncertainty to joy and disbelief. Within seconds, he’s stuffing peanut butter crackers in his mouth, and while John’s first thought is adorable his second thought is no wait, that’s a starving person and all thoughts of cuteness dissolve.

It’s hard to remember sometimes that these aren’t just sentient toys; they were people once. Still are people, albeit different.

He doesn’t have much time to ponder it as suddenly, dozens of other toys begin to come out of their hiding places, eyeing the stand with wonder and curiosity. They steadily begin approaching the stand, some of them still a bit warier than others. One by one, Poppy passes out a paper bag to each toy. By now, there’s an entire crowd of toys ranging from small to medium size. None of them appear to be hostile, instead patiently waiting for their bag.

John exchanges a look with Poppy, a smile growing on both of their faces.

This is working. This is actually working.

At this rate, they might be able to restore balance quicker than expected.

Only when he feels something brush against his leg, followed by a series of mischievous giggles, does he realize he may have spoke too soon.

A cold feeling of dread goes through. He slowly looks down.

There are four—no, five smiling critter plushies skittering behind the stand, dragging away the paper bags filled with goodies. It takes him a moment to process what he’s witnessing until it hits him—they’re stealing the food.

“What the—hey!”

He reaches down towards one of the bags being carried on a Mini Critter’s back. A Hoppy Hopscotch begins to growl at him, then suddenly, two rows of sharp teeth pop out of her gums and she lunges, biting his hand. A yelp leaves John as he yanks his hand away.

“Ow! You little shit.”

The Mini Critters proceed to make a run for it, dragging the stolen lunch bags towards The Playhouse. He curses beneath his breath before booking it towards the plushies, readying his Orange Grabpack Hand.

“Get back here!”

“John, wait!” Poppy calls out to him, but it falls on deaf ears as he proceeds to enter The Playhouse.

The Mini Critters are unusually fast, even while carrying sacks of food. An absurd display of cat and mouse ensues as John tries and fails to catch those giggling gremlins. He sprints through rooms, crawls through tunnels, leaps across platforms. Yet despite his best efforts, the critters still manage to evade him, disappearing one by one.

The last critter just barely manages to slip away from his grasp, crawling into one of their hidey holes until no longer in sight.

A noise of frustration leaves him. “Son of a...”

He’s debating whether he should reach his arm inside the hole—and wow he must really be losing his mind for him to consider risking his arm getting chewed off over some fruit cups and crackers—when suddenly, he hears a noise. He pauses, senses on high alert.

This place feels eerie as he stands there, surrounded by claustrophobic tubes and blood splattered walls made of multicolored squares. The Mini Critters are long gone, having retreated back into their hiding spots. He appears to be alone, but he knows better. Something had to have made that noise and he’s certain it wasn’t just the building settling.

He listens intently, waiting to see if the sound would appear again. Then seconds later, he hears it again: a groan, low and guttural, so quiet you can barely hear it, but it’s there. It’s coming from a large pile of debris and Styrofoam cubes.

He cautiously approaches it, Purple Hand out and ready to leap off a nearby platform in case this turns out to be a trap. Using the Blue Hand, he carefully removes one of the Styrofoam cubes.

Then another. And another.

After the third cube is removed, he sees something: an orange piece of fur sticking out from the pile.

His heart drops.

Abandoning the Grabpack, he hastily begins removing each cube and piece of debris with his bare hands. Soon enough, he sees floppy ears and the back of someone’s head, all covered in orange fur. Recognition instantly hits him and with it, hope.

“Holy shit—DogDay!”

There’s no response from the canine toy buried beneath, and suddenly the joy he felt begins to diminish, replaced by fear and worry. He tosses a particularly large chunk of debris aside, uncaring of whether the sharp metal hurts his hands, until finally he’s managed to uncover most of DogDay. Then carefully, he flips him over.

To say he doesn’t look good would be an understatement. His matted coat is covered in blood in grime, the stitching on his shoulders and wrists appearing to be loose. His eyes are still gone, leaving only hollow spaces in his sockets, and the lower half of his body is still missing, having been torn off from his body. He looks too much like an abused ragdoll with... intestines.

The first time he’d seen it, he was shocked to his core. The closest John had ever been to seeing human organs were the fake props used on television, the kinds you’d see in horror movies with excessive amounts of gore.

He never liked horror movies.

And as he stares at the tubes of pink dangling beneath DogDay, the smell of blood and decay invading his nostrils, he realizes that this is a thousand times worse than television. 

Another groan disrupts him from his thoughts. DogDay doesn’t appear to be looking at him, not that he could if he wanted to. John attempts to grab his attention by gently shaking his shoulder.

“DogDay, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s lucid, as he appears to be somewhere between consciousness and dreaming. Delirious.

“No... no, no, no...” DogDay repeats, his voice a deep, pained sound.

Just then, Kissy Missy appears, ducking into the room with Poppy riding her shoulders. The doll’s face looks worried, but the moment she sees John, there’s relief.

“John, there you are! What’s going on?”

He moves aside just enough to reveal DogDay, who has yet to recognize anyone else in the room. Poppy gasps, eyes widening.

“Is that…”

“He isn’t responding,” John says in lieu of an answer. “We have to help him. Now!”

Without another word, Poppy springs into action. She instructs Kissy Missy to carry DogDay while they bring him somewhere safe. John feels entirely useless as he watches the tallest of them all crouch down, carefully lifting DogDay from the floor. The canine toy still doesn’t respond to them, seemingly stuck in his own mind. But he’s alive and that’s what’s important. He can worry about the hows whats and whys later, for now they need to focus on getting him stable.

He just hopes it’s not too late.

They bring him to Kissy Missy’s old room in Home Sweet Home. It’s cramped with all four of them being in there at once, but none of them seem to care. Shortly after Kissy places DogDay on the bed, he begins to hyperventilate, his body trembling against the mattress.

“DogDay, can you hear us?” Poppy tries to speak to him, but the canine doesn’t respond, as if he can’t hear her.

John attempts to take the lead. “We need to find a way to stop the pain.”

“There’s a nurses’ office in The School and a medical room in The Counselor’s Office,” Poppy explains, “but once everything went to chaos, all the medical supplies were plundered.”

“Not even a medkit?”

“Negative. I have some needle and thread—I can close up his wound, but it’s risky.”

“How risky?”

A pained noise leaves DogDay’s throat, grabbing both their attention. “Please... just let me die...”

John’s heart breaks as he hears those words. His fists clench. “Just hang in there, DogDay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“It’s too late. Just let me go. I-it hurts...”

His sounds of distress grow louder, then suddenly, he begins thrashing on the bed. Kissy quickly moves towards the bed before holding him down, trying to stop him from accidentally injuring himself further.

“He’s too unstable,” Poppy says, narrowly avoiding Kissy’s elbow as DogDay continues to thrash. “If I try and sew him up now, it might make things worse. We have to get him to calm down first.”

John watches the scene, feeling helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What can he do? He isn’t a psychiatrist; he has no idea how to bring someone down from delirium. Damn it, there has to be something he can do. Think, think, think—

An idea comes to him then. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of beef jerky. With little grace, he rips off the plastic, takes out a piece of the dried meat, and brings it to DogDay’s mouth. The canine’s nose appears to twitch before suddenly, he goes still. John uses the opportunity to plop the jerky into his mouth, then he waits.

There’s a delayed reaction as DogDay lies there, still shaking a bit but otherwise calm. John can’t tell if the beef jerky is helping or if DogDay has just fallen into some sort of shock. After a brief moment, a small, quiet voice cuts through the silence.

“That tastes… familiar…” DogDay says, and John can imagine his face scrunching, trying to comprehend the flavor he’s experiencing. “What… is that? It’s been so long, but… I know that taste…”

“It’s dried meat,” John replies. “Or well, beef. From cows.”

“Be… beef?” DogDay still seems confused, but he’s listening. Good. Now all they need to do is keep him talking. John scoots a bit closer to DogDay, ensuring his voice is clear.

“Yeah, like burgers. There’s cheeseburgers, hamburgers, veggie burgers—well, veggie burgers aren’t actually made out of beef, but they pretty much taste the same. Tell you what? I promise I’ll make you one if you get through this. Can you do that for me?”

“Burgers…” DogDay finally turns his face towards John, and the first thing he imagines is a sky full of clouds, smothering the sun until all that’s left is dull grey. He doesn’t believe John’s words; in fact, he probably already considers himself dead despite breathing. Still, he humors him. “That would be nice.”

John takes his paw in both hands, then squeezes gently. “I’ll make it happen,” he promises. “Just sit tight, we’re gonna fix you up.”

DogDay doesn’t look too confident, but still, he doesn’t protest. Instead, he uses what little strength he has to squeeze John’s hand back, and damn it if that doesn’t make him wanna cry.

Just then, he receives a phone call from Ollie. Without letting go of DogDay’s hand, John answers the call.

“Hey hey, it’s me Ollie!” A chipper voice sounds through the speaker. “What’s going on? I heard some commotion happening in Playcare.”

John cuts to the chase. “Ollie, listen, we found DogDay. He’s alive, but he’s badly injured. Do you have any idea how we can save him?”

There’s a short pause. “DogDay’s alive? And wounded? Ah, right, that would make sense. After all, wasn’t he… tortured?”

DogDay’s grip tightens on his hand. He’s shaking again, his breathing gradually becoming quicker. Shit, we’re losing him.

“There’s no time!” John stresses. “His eyes and legs are gone, and it's causing him a lot of pain. There’s a belt strapped around his waist to stop him from bleeding out, but that’s it. Is there any way we can fix this?”

There’s a pause as Ollie appears to be thinking. “Well… I’m not sure if this helps, but I can tell you that CatNap wanted DogDay alive, going so far as to not allow the Mini Critters to devour him under any circumstances. Not only that, but he hid his eyes and legs somewhere inside The Playhouse. If you can find them, then I’m sure DogDay will make it.”

“Got it, thanks.”

“Hold on, what about—?”

John hangs up before he can finish. Sorry Ollie, but I need to focus. He makes quick work of gathering his Grabpack and preparing to leave. Before he leaves, he turns towards Poppy and Kissy.

“Poppy—”

“I heard,” Poppy interrupts. “Go find DogDay’s body parts, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him. Kissy, you go with him. Hurry you two, if he starts squirming again, I won’t be able to stop him from further injuring himself.”

Both John and Kissy Missy nod quickly before heading out the door.

It’s a daunting task searching for in The Playhouse. The place is a maze, and he has no clue where the missing body parts could be hidden. He tries not to think about the fact that they’re on a time limit; his nerves are bad enough as it is. At least he isn’t doing this alone, as Kissy is there with him, her calm demeanor alleviating some of the anxiety built up in his chest.

After rifling through yet another ball pit, he stops and thinks about where the parts would most likely be.

If I were CatNap, where would I hide something?

An image appears in his head, memories of CatNap stalking him from the shadows or crawling through a vent in the ceiling. Predators like to stay undetected; they either hunt from places dark or places high.

He looks upwards, scanning the walls.

Then he sees it.

A large toy box hidden away high upon a shelf, not something you’d notice immediately. Bingo. He wastes no time launching himself on a platform near the shelf. Surprisingly, it isn’t locked. He opens the box. Sure enough, there they are—long furry legs and a set of eyeballs with white irises, stored away like treasure pieces.

“I found them!” He calls out to Kissy.

With her help, they bring the body parts back to Home Sweet Home. Poppy is still in the same spot as before, watching over DogDay who’s thankfully still breathing, though he’s barely hanging on. Poppy turns her head when she hears them approach, her face lighting up with hope.

“You found them! Quick, bring them here!”

John carries the eyeballs to Poppy, trying to ignore how slimy they feel against his palms. As he hands them over, he realizes what’s about to happen. He hadn’t considered how they were going to reinsert his eyes, but now the answer appears obvious.

Dread emerges in his stomach as he watches Poppy position herself above DogDay, eyeballs in hand. Her expression is calm and focused.

“Kissy, hold him down. John, you may want to grab his hand.”

John snaps out of his thoughts and takes his paw while Kissy Missy holds him down by the shoulders. This seems to alert DogDay as suddenly, he becomes more aware.

“W-what’s going on? What are you doing?”

There’s a bit of sorrow and guilt in Poppy’s expression. “I’m sorry DogDay, but you’re gonna have to trust us. It’ll be over soon. Just try your best to relax.”

That’s the only warning he gets. She leans down, and John knows it’s coming, but he can’t bring himself to look away, as if he’s hypnotized. She brings the eyes towards his sockets and pushes—

He’s reminded again of horror movies and the dramatic, over-the-top screams done by the actors. But there’s nothing fake about this scream. It’s raw. An agonizing shriek that pierces through the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

There’s an awful squelch as Poppy continues to push, blood oozing from each socket, and John still can’t look away, even when his stomach starts to churn. DogDay’s grip tightens on his hand to the point where it’s almost crushing, but he holds on—he needs to keep him grounded no matter what. 

It feels like eternity passes before it’s finally over.

There’s a moment of silence as DogDay recovers from the procedure. John refuses to let go of his paw—at this point, he’s not sure if he’s comforting DogDay or himself. Gradually, the canine’s breathing begins to even out. He turns his head, ears flopping over, and looks at John for the first time.

His eyes look just like CatNap’s, yet entirely different. Gentler.

“You really are an angel.”

And it’s those words that bring color back to John’s world.

Shortly after reuniting with DogDay, John is shooed away by Poppy, who insists that he takes a break. A part of him wanted to protest, but he also knew he wouldn’t be very useful sitting there while Poppy sews on DogDay’s legs, so he reluctantly complied.

He goes to check on the food pantry, but by the time he gets there, he finds that the entire stand has been ransacked. All that remains is shredded paper and broken wood. It’s disappointing to say the least, but thankfully there’s still plenty of food stored away in the maintenance room.

Overall, he’d rate their success as a C+. They only managed to feed a handful of denizens before things went downhill, but that’s still better than having not fed anyone at all. Now it’s only a matter of time before word spreads around about the pantry, and ideally, more toys will come out of hiding in order to participate, promoting better health for everyone.

It’s going to take a lot more time and effort to get this place organized, but they’ve got the ball rolling, now all they can do is be patient.

In the meantime, he still has one other person left to feed.

A bitter feeling resides in him as he heads down the hall, a duffel bag full of packaged food slung over his shoulder. Finding DogDay alive was a blessing, but with it comes the gruesome reminder of just how ruthless CatNap can be. He can still hear the sounds of him begging to be put out of his misery, the brokenness in his voice, the scream.

CatNap did that to him. And for what? To prove a point?

Let it go, John. This isn’t the time to get upset.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to release his frustration. Regardless of how he feels, CatNap is still a person in need of help. Whether he deserves it is an entirely different matter that he does not have the energy to think about. What matters is that he remains unbiased. Besides, he doesn’t want to ruin this truce they currently have.

Eventually, he finds CatNap pacing back and forth in one of the hallways. He pauses, observing. There’s stress radiating from the feline, tail swishing back and forth in agitation.

“CatNap?” John calls out.

No response. CatNap doesn’t seem to hear him as he continues to pace against the floor restlessly.

Okay, now I’m concerned

John allows the strap of his duffel bag to slide off his shoulders, setting his aside before approaching him.

“Hey... are you okay?”

That seems to finally get his attention as CatNap freezes abruptly. There’s a beat of silence as he slowly turns his head, eyes landing on John. There’s something... off about his gaze. It isn’t as piercing as it normally feels; it’s foggy. It’s like he isn’t actually looking at John, but looking through him.

Definitely a cause for concern.

Uncertain exactly how to approach this, John goes for the direct and honest route. “You seem... stressed. What’s wrong?”

CatNap’s response is delayed, though that’s pretty normal all things considered. When he does speak, his voice carries a weight.

“He has not spoken to me.”

It takes a second for him to figure out who he’s referring to. “You mean The Prototype?”

A slow nod.

“I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon…”

The feline shakes his head before restarting his pace.

“No. He will not talk to me. He is leaving me.”

Annoyance begins to appear in his head. Is he seriously getting worked up over this? Honestly, this obsession with The Prototype is getting old. There are bigger issues to worry about and frankly, he’s running out of patience.

He heaves a sigh. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? Look, why don’t you just eat some food and—”

There’s a blur of movement and suddenly CatNap is right in front of him, quite literally face-to-face. There’s a wild, unhinged look in his eyes, a dangerous aura surrounding him, so powerful that it renders John completely immobile.

“Don’t you understand? He is leaving me.”

There’s stress in his voice unlike anything he’s ever heard from him. John raises his palms placatingly, his heartrate picking up speed. Okay, maybe this is more serious than he thought. It’s best to find a way to defuse this situation before he gets himself killed by an unstable CatNap.

He takes a moment to rethink his approach, trying to understand it from CatNap’s perspective. He’s upset that The Prototype is ignoring him—that makes sense, the intelligent creature is basically his god after all—and now he’s jumping to the conclusion that he’s being abandoned. A rejection like that would be devastating to a strong believer. He needs to reassure him that he hasn’t been rejected yet, delicately.

He slowly lowers his hands before speaking in a calm voice. “Why would The Prototype leave you? You’re his most faithful follower.”

“I failed him. He has no use for me anymore.”

“Come on, I doubt that’s true. Look, maybe The Prototype is disappointed, but he’ll get over it. And once he does, he’ll remember how important you are to him.”

CatNap falls silent, considering his words. The agitated swishing of his tail decreases to something a little more tame. He appears to have calmed down a bit, but there’s still some uncertainty left.

Not wanting to test his luck, John takes a step back, then gestures towards the duffel bag.

“…But in the meantime, why don’t we eat something?”

He unzips the bag, showing off the various contents. CatNap’s gaze shifts as he finally acknowledges the food. He doesn’t even pick a fight this time as he approaches the bag, inspecting what’s inside. After a moment, he reaches a paw in.

There’s relief as John releases the breath he’d been holding. It’s remarkable how one moment he feels normal in CatNap’s presence, and the next moment his fight or flight instincts are being activated. It’s almost like a game, seeing how long he can toe the line between establishing trust and being murdered.

And he’s still angry, which he should be. He has every right to be upset after what he’s been through. Yet here he is, regularly feeding the person who tormented him, who tortured his friend. He doesn’t even know why he’s going so far out of his way for him. Sure, he’d be a powerful ally, but is that the only reason he’s doing all this?

A conflicted feeling stirs in his chest. He watches as CatNap attempts to open a fruit cup, only for juice to splatter on his face as he punctures the lid. He grumbles, displeased, and John can’t help the snort of amusement that comes out from him.

…

Ah shit, he’s in deep, isn’t it?

Eating has always been a good distraction. It’s simple. Direct. He doesn’t have to think about it, he just does. That’s why he’s grateful when John shows him the duffel bag. Foods he hasn’t had in ages are offered to him, and with the unwanted thoughts circling through his head, the offer is too tempting to resist.

They’re sitting on the floor against the wall, the duffel bag resting between them. It takes some restraint not to immediately devour every item in the bag, but he manages. He tries to focus on the flavors, the textures, anything to get his mind off of him.

It works for a moment.

Until John’s voice breaks his concentration.

“Soo… what have you been up to? Other than pacing back and forth.”

He doesn’t reply. His head hurts and he doesn’t feel like talking. So he doesn’t.

“…Alright then. Guess I’ll do the talking.”

John goes onto explain his new plan, a project involving rehabilitation for every sentient toy in the factory. He listens. It’s not as difficult as talking or thinking. He pays attention to his voice, to his features. The way his hands move as he recounts the events that happened earlier: setting up the stand in Playcare, handing out bagged lunches to the inhabitants, chasing the miniature Smiling Critters who stole their food, and returning to the stand only to find it demolished.

Something about his story feels incomplete, but he can’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it’s nothing.

Either way, it’s a nice distraction.

“—So now I’m thinking, instead of putting the stand out in the open, we should host the pantry underneath the statue, that way no one can sneak up on us like the Mini Critters did.”

CatNap makes an affirmative noise. That would be wiser; the Mini Critters can be quite a threat when grouped together. That’s part of the reason why he chose them as his servants.

“And did I mention one of them bit me? Because one of them bit me. I didn’t even know they had teeth. Does that mean you have teeth? No wait—don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

John sighs, slumping against the wall. There’s a beat of silence, the man’s expression becoming thoughtful.

“Can I ask you something?”

CatNap makes another affirmative noise. John appears to hesitate for a moment before eventually speaking.

“Why aren’t you trying to stop me? I mean, everything I told you just now goes against The Pr—your beliefs. Yet you aren’t doing anything.”

CatNap doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know why he isn’t trying to stop him. His thoughts have been extremely disorganized lately. Now his goals seem less than clear.

“Have you given up?”

A flash of something hot and intense goes through him.

“Do not question my faith.”

“I’m not, I’m just—confused. If you aren’t trying to stop us then what are you doing?”

“…Thinking.”

“Bullshit. You’re avoiding having to face your problems.”

“You are one to talk, little rat.”

“Stop deflecting; this isn’t about me. Obviously something is going on with you. You aren’t acting the way you normally do.”

This peaks his interest. CatNap tilts his head curiously.

“How do I normally act?”

John doesn’t meet his gaze, his expression becoming unreadable. Whatever he’s thinking about doesn’t appear to be pleasant. CatNap can sense the bitterness, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Ruthless. Cruel. Like someone who doesn’t care how others feel.”

“Has that changed?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who decided to hurt people. Do you feel any regret for what you did?”

There’s a pregnant pause. That certainly wasn’t the response he expected. Why would he regret his actions? It’s what The Prototype wanted, and that’s all that matters. It’s not his choice whether someone is saved or if they’re damned. He is merely a servant, and he does what needs to be done, even if it hurts, even if it makes him want to claw himself out of his skin, even if it KILLS HIM.

The thoughts are starting to return again. CatNap’s stomach begins to ache, even though he just ate. Why why why why why won’t it stop aching?

John seems to have grown tired of his silence, as he heaves a sigh.

“Forget it. I don’t even know why I bother trying. It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He begins packing up the duffel bag DON’T LEAVE DON’T LEAVE THE VOICES ARE TOO LOUD PLEASE STAY as he prepares to leave. CatNap doesn’t move. His head feels like it’s about to explode, and as he watches John begin to walk away, he hears one more comment.

“Whatever, have fun being alone.”

The world stops.

He’s… alone?

No. He’s not alone. His savior is here. He’s—

NO ONE IS HERE. NO ONE IS COMING. THE BODIES WILL THUD THUD THUD AND YOU WILL BLEED AND YOUR THROAT WILL FOREVER ACHE BECAUSE YOU ARE NOTHING. GOD HAS FORSAKEN YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE WORTHLESS. IT’S YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR SOUL IS DOOMED FOR YOU ARE CURSED YOU ARE A FREAK YOU ARE

Alone.

I’m alone. I’m alone I’M ALONE I’M ALONE I’M ALONE I’M ALONE I’M ALONE I’M ALONE HE’S NOT COMING HE’S NOT COMING I’M ALONE I’M ALONE I’M

“Stop it!”

The darkness fades, his vision slowly returning. He looks to his right to see John standing there, eyes blown wide and expression shocked, as if he’d just witnessed something horrifying. He’s also holding CatNap’s paw, for some reason.

Upon closer inspection, he sees that the tips of his claws are stained red. Ah. He’d been digging his claws into his own head.

John releases a shaky breath before speaking. “What was that?”

CatNap doesn’t know how to explain what just happened. So he settles with the truth.

“...I don’t know.”

“Shit. Okay, I think—it looks like you had a panic attack. Does that happen often?”

He nods slowly. This is foolish, expressing his weaknesses. He should be getting away from here, but he can’t, because John is rubbing circles into the back of his paw, and it’s so soothing that he can’t bring himself to pull away. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been touched so gently.

They spend a minute or two like this, John rubbing his paw as he slowly relaxes.

When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “You know... we can help you, if you let us. You don’t have to deal with these sorts of things alone.”

The words are dangerous, and they both know it. He remembers the phone call John had with his ally. How he wanted to recruit CatNap to their side.

He slowly pulls his paw away.

“I will not join you.”

He can see the moment John realizes that CatNap knows about his plan to recruit him. But instead of giving up on him entirely like he expected, he gets something else.

“I’m still going to help you.”

Promise? “You’re wasting your time.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You cannot save me.”

“Just give yourself a chance.”

CatNap steps closer, getting in his face, preparing to say the words that’ll push him away for good.

“I will devour you.”

John looks back at him, unflinching and unfazed. There’s a solidness in his gaze that wasn’t there before, and for once, CatNap is the one who feels like his soul is being pierced through.

“That’s not what you really want, is it?”

The words render him speechless. Unable to form a response, CatNap can only watch as John regathers his bag, preparing to leave for certain this time.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

The statement lingers in CatNap's mind even after John is long gone, and the hallway is empty.

Chapter Text

To prevent thievery, John hosts the pantry underneath the statue in Playcare. Not a moment after he and Poppy emerge from the cable car do the toys begin to come out of their hiding places. Whatever hesitance there was about the pantry seems to have vanished, the promise of free food too tempting to ignore. Soon enough, an entire line has formed outside of the statue.

“One for you, and one for you, and here’s yours…”

While John passes them out, Poppy keeps a steady supply coming through the door. It’s a pretty straightforward process that proves to be (surprisingly) effective.

He’s about to hand off another bag to the next toy in line when he looks down at the toy in question. A Mini CatNap, followed by a group of critters, looking up at him with innocent expressions.

He fixes them with a deadpan stare, not budging.

A whimper falls from the Mini CatNap, his ears folding back. Damn it, that should not be as cute as it is, curse him and his soft heart. Defenses crumbling, he sighs and offers him a lunch bag. The plushie immediately perks up, making a noise of glee before accepting the gift. He repeats this process with the rest of the Mini Critters until they’re all marching back towards the circus tent, lunch bags on their backs.

Eventually, the line disappears.

He dusts his hands off. “How many was that?”

There’s an enthusiastic smile on Poppy’s face as she pokes her head out of the door, clipboard in hand. “Three-hundred twenty-seven!”

“Holy crap.”

“I know, it’s incredible! That has to be almost everyone in Playcare!”

Her excitement is contagious, and John can feel a sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. They’re doing it. They’re changing things. A week ago this wouldn’t even have been considered a possibility. But now? Now they’re getting somewhere.

It’s hard work, but it’s rewarding.

As they’re packing up, Kissy Missy arrives at the statue. She’d been assigned to keep an eye on DogDay while he recovers in Home Sweet Home. He had no doubt that she’d take good care of him—ever since they recovered him yesterday, the pink giant has been nothing but considerate. That reminds him, he needs to request some burger patties next time Lucas drops by…

“How’s he doing?” John asks.

Kissy offers him a thumbs up. Getting better.

“Why don’t you go visit him?” Poppy suggests. “I’m sure seeing you again would make him feel better.”

He doesn’t need to think twice about it. After all, he’s been waiting for an opportunity to have a proper conversation with DogDay, to truly get to know him without the threat of someone’s life hanging on the line.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

“Good. We’ve got everything else covered from here, now go on.” Poppy shoos him, as if saying go see your best friend already.

John chuckles before nodding his head. Feeling motivated, he makes his way towards Home Sweet Home.

His third interaction with DogDay is significantly less stressful than the first two.

He finds him lying in Kissy’s bed, a mountain of pillows propping him up, lower half covered by a pink, tattered blanket. Beneath the fabric, he can see the outline of his legs, now fully attached to his torso. There’s a plastic bag full of half-melted ice lying on the nightstand. A homemade ice pack, to numb the pain, no doubt.

When DogDay notices him enter the room, he slowly turns his head, eyes landing on him. He perks up, carefully shifting himself into an upright position.

“Angel, you’re back.”

His voice is unique—low, but not as low as CatNap’s, and the syllables don’t drag either. It’s more growly, like he has a permanent sore throat.

He’s also elected to call him ‘Angel’, a nickname inspired by his title as ‘Poppy’s angel’. That’s fine. He can call John whatever the hell he wants, he’s just happy he’s still alive.

“Hey, bud,” he greets, grabbing a chair and taking a seat. “How are you feeling?”

DogDay shrugs his shoulders half-heartedly. “As good as I can feel, I suppose.”

“Right, sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. You saved me.”

His expression is soft, sincere. It suddenly becomes difficult to look at him as guilt gnaws in his chest. Yeah, he saved him, but he’s also been hanging around the person who put him in that position in the first place. Not that he condones what CatNap did, obviously, but still. It feels dirty.

DogDay seems to notice his discomfort. He tilts his head, concerned.

“Is something wrong? You look upset.”

He should forget about it. Pretend it’s nothing and move on. The last thing DogDay needs is to hear about his ‘friend’ mingling with the person who tortured him. He should just focus on lighter topics instead, like he initially planned.

That’s not fair. He deserves to know the truth.

Alas, his guilty conscience wins. He takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but… CatNap is alive.”

He was expecting some sort of reaction—a gasp or a flinch, something along those lines. Instead, DogDay hums thoughtfully.

“So I’ve heard. Kissy Missy brought me up to date with everything that’s happened while I was, uh, incapacitated.”

“Did she tell you anything else about him?”

“She says he’s been strangely passive. That he’s staying away from Playcare.”

“Did she mention why?”

“Not that I can recall…” It’s at this point that DogDay begins to pick up on the fact that he’s hiding something, his back becoming a bit straighter. “Is there something I should know?”

John takes another deep breath. Please don’t hate me.

“I’ve been talking to CatNap. Repeatedly. Like—regular conversations that don’t involve fighting or trying to kill one another.”

“Angel—"

“I know it sounds crazy,” John interrupts, because he needs to get this off his chest and he’s afraid if he stops now, it’ll never happen. “And maybe you’re right. But I don’t want to kill him and it’s not like I can just ignore him. I thought maybe I could get him on our side, but he’s made it clear he’s not interested, even threatened to devour me the other day if I don’t leave him be.”

“I think he’s bluffing, though. I think he’s trying to push me away. He’s had ample opportunity to kill me but he hasn’t. That has to mean something, right? I’m not crazy, am I? Or maybe I am. Maybe he’s just a loose cannon and I’m just an idiot playing with the fuse. But I can’t walk away from him. I have to help him, because… because…”

“Because you want to,” DogDay finishes. “You care about him.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. It’s in that moment that it truly hits him. He does care about CatNap. He’s still cautious, angry, and scared of him, yet he cares. Enough to bring him a meal every day. Enough to stop him from sinking his claws into his own head. Enough to still return to him even after numerous threats to his life.

This isn’t normal; it can’t be. He doesn’t even know why he cares. What does that make him? A fool? A traitor? Some sort of masochist?

“I shouldn’t,” John argues, still trying to convince himself that he’s in the wrong. “He’s not a good person. Look at what he did to you.”

DogDay doesn’t respond. An air of sorrow surrounds him, and John is once again reminded of when they first met, how miserable the canine was as he hung from the ceiling. That was the first time he saw true despair.

John runs a stressed hand through his hair. “I just feel bad. I don’t know why I’m giving him a second chance. And you’re my friend… I shouldn’t be helping the person who tortured you.”

A moment of silence falls between them, the air thick with tension. He’s almost afraid to look up, opting to study the wooden floor panels instead.

He’s being ridiculous, ranting to the guy who’s still in the process of recovering. The guy’s got enough on his plate, for goodness’ sake.

He opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but before he can speak, DogDay beats him to it.

“What he did to me was… awful.” His eyes are trained to his lap, contemplative. “I can’t even begin to describe it, the way he made me feel, the way I feel now. My spirit has never felt so broken.”

His heart squeezes painfully at the declaration. The words I’m sorry are at the tip of his tongue, but it’s as if DogDay knows it’s coming and, rather than giving him the opportunity to blame himself, gently refutes whatever negative thoughts he has running through his head.

“That being said,” DogDay continues, “It is not your fault that he chose to hurt me. It is also not your fault that you care about him.”

“I care about you, too.” It’s a weak argument. Heck, he doesn’t even know why he’s still arguing at this point. He just needs him to know. I’m on your side.

Thankfully, DogDay seems to understand, his expression growing softer.

“I know. You care about all of us. You have a good heart, Angel.”

DogDay readjusts himself so that he’s sitting more comfortably. Once settled, he faces John again, this time looking determined.

“I won’t fault you for wanting to help him. What happened to me isn’t on you, it’s on him.”

John stares at the canine in disbelief. This guy. This freaking guy. He swears if he wasn’t injured, he’d throw his arms around him and hug him as hard as he could, never letting go.

“How are you so perfect?”

That pulls a chuckle from DogDay as he scratches his cheek. “I don’t know about that…”

“Trust me, you are. And you call me an angel. Have you looked in the mirror?”

The canine clears his throat, embarrassed, before swiftly changing the subject. “Regardless, there’s something else I wanted to ask you about. Kissy told me about your plan to rehabilitate the lost souls in the factory. She mentioned that you’ve begun setting up a food pantry.”

“That’s right. Today actually went pretty well. We fed everyone in Playcare, even those demonic little ankle biters from the circus tent.” It was meant to be a joke, until he remembers said ankle biters quite literally crawled inside of DogDay and used him as a meat suit. He winces. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

DogDay shakes his head dismissively. “Nevermind that. Did you just say you fed everyone in Playcare?”

“About three hundred toys were fed, so yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s incredible.” The canine’s expression is full of astonishment and wonder. “How did you manage to do that?”

“Hell if I know. But however we did it, it’s working. I’ve also been thinking about doing some research, too. I figured the more we understand how toys work, the better we can help everyone.”

“I see. Perhaps I can help you with your research?”

A flicker of surprise passes through him. He didn’t expect him to offer assistance, not while he’s recovering. But now that he thinks about it… this could be a good opportunity to gain some knowledge from someone other than Poppy.

“You know what? That would actually be super helpful. Hold on, let me just—” He looks around for a pen and paper, anything he can use to document. He settles with an old sketchbook and a random colored pencil he finds lying on the floor. “Mind if I ask some questions?”

DogDay perks up. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

He starts with some standard questions.

“Do you ever feel hungry?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What about thirst? Do you ever get an urge to drink something?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you think it’s necessary for you to breathe?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

His answers were the same as CatNap’s. Does this mean all toys function in a similar fashion? If he were to interview a dozen more toys, will their answers be the same?

“Alright, next question. Do you have any sort of special abilities?”

DogDay rubs his chin, considering. “I’m not sure if you’d consider this special, but I can shrink.”

His hand pauses over the sketchbook. Shrink?

“What do you mean?”

“I can adjust my size so that my body grows smaller. ‘Fun-size’ is what the children would call it. I would show you, but in my condition, I’m not sure if that would be a good idea...”

“No, that’s alright. Thanks for letting me know.”

He tries to picture the canine morphing into a smaller size. It’s one thing to have stretchy limbs or produce hallucinatory gas, but altering your own physical size? How would that even work? It seems impossible. Another question springs to mind then.

“Can CatNap change his size too?”

“Oh yes,” DogDay says. “In fact, his ability is greater than mine. That’s why he’s larger than I am. For some reason, he’s the only one of us Smiling Critters that can grow that big.”

“Really?”

A nod. “CatNap has always had more unique abilities compared to the rest of us Smiling Critters. Even without the red smoke, he was always physically stronger and more capable. As the leader, I was more responsible for keeping the peace. Look how well that turned out…”

His shoulders slumps, a look of self-deprecation taking over his features. Without even thinking about it, John reaches a hand over and places it on the back of his.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You did the best you could.”

DogDay glances at him briefly, but otherwise doesn’t comment on it.

“In any case, CatNap proved to be exactly what the scientists were looking for. He was special. And being special in a place like this is not something that you want. Sometimes I wonder if things would have gone differently if he hadn’t been so special.”

John isn’t sure what he means by that. He has a feeling the statement isn’t being aimed towards him.

Maybe now is a good time to stop the questions. Last thing he wants is for DogDay to become more depressed.

The conversation finally shifts to something more casual. He doesn’t even know how much time passes as they converse about anything and everything. He shares stories about when he was in college, then he talks about his parents and the expectations they have for him. They exchange thoughts about foods, technology, even TV shows (DogDay claims not to remember much television, but seems eager to listen as John explains the plot for his favorite shows).

They learn a lot about each other in that moment. DogDay, it turns out, is the exact opposite of CatNap when it comes to making conversation. You can talk to him all day.

But like all things, it eventually comes to an end.

John gets up, stretching his back until it no longer felt stiff. “I’m gonna head back. Remember, lay low, and don’t push yourself. Neither CatNap nor The Prototype knows you’re alive, and we best keep it that way.”

He’s just about to head out when DogDay calls out.

“Wait.”

He stops, looking back over at the canine. DogDay is looking straight at him, his expression a mixture of anxious, somber, and knowing.

“Don’t blame yourself if you can’t get through to him. Trust me, I’ve tried. And whatever happens… just know it’s not your fault if you can’t reach him.”

John swallows, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. A single nod is all he manages to offer. Then he leaves.

The trip back to the security room is short. Only when he steps into the train station does he realize something’s off. The room is too quiet, the air too still. His sixth sense is tingling, telling him that there’s another presence somewhere nearby.

Like someone’s watching him.

A chill runs through his spine. Deciding it’s best not to linger out in the open, he hurries over to the security room, his safe haven—

The door is open.

He stills.

Did he forget to lock it before he left? He pats down his pants pockets. Sure enough, the key is still there. Even if he forgot to lock the door, he’s certain he wouldn’t have left it open. Poppy and his friends don’t ever enter his room when he’s not there, so it couldn’t have been them.

He creeps towards the entrance, Grabpack at the ready, and peeks inside. The maintenance door is still closed, thankfully. They’d be completely out of luck if someone stole their entire food supply. For a moment, nothing appears to be out of place.

Then he sees it: a note lying in the center of the desk.

His muscles grow tense. It looks as if someone intentionally placed it there for him to notice it. An uneasy feeling churns in his stomach. He slowly approaches the desk, eyes darting around the room, searching for signs of this being a trap. When nothing jumps out at him, he picks up the note, reading it.

[DO NOT INTERFERE WITH THE ORDER

THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING]

He frowns at the ominous letter in his hand, words written in scratchy lines made of dark ink. Is this… a threat? Who the hell wrote this? An image of a certain purple cat appears in his mind. Would he have...? It seems like something he’d do just to toy with him.

Rather than jump to conclusions, he decides to confront him directly.

He takes the train straight to the upper floor where knows the feline will be. Sure enough, he finds CatNap lying on a tall shelf, seemingly taking a nap. Upon hearing him approach, one of his pointy ears flickers.

John doesn’t bother with the formalities, marching right up to the shelf before raising the letter.

“Did you write this?”

CatNap lazily shifts his gaze. He looks at the letter briefly, unconcerned.

“No.”

“So you have no idea who wrote this letter?”

“No.”

Well that anticlimactic. And now he’s back to square one. He sighs, lowering the letter.

“You’re no help.”

He starts to head back to the train station. All the while, his mind continues to fixate on the letter. There’s only one ‘order’ those words could possibly be referring to and that’s The Prototype’s order. The one person who’s most devoted to The Prototype is CatNap, but if he didn’t write the letter, who did?

More importantly, should he be concerned?

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears a noise. He pauses. As soon as he stops walking, the noise disappears. He continues onward, this time paying close attention to the sounds happening around him. Moments after he continues walking forward, he hears it again: a bunch of mini footsteps crawling somewhere behind him. No, not behind him. It sounds like they’re coming from above.

His body freezes.

He looks up.

It takes a moment to recognize the elongated mass of blue and purple fur; after all, he hasn’t seen him since he was forced to play Mommy Long Legs’ game of Statues. But there’s no mistaking it. The Bigger Bodies version of PJ Pug-A-Pillar stares back at him from the ceiling, tongue hanging from his flat muzzle, eyes so big you’d think they looked dopey, were they not filled with the predatory desire to rip apart your flesh. His stomach drops.

He makes a run for it.

The pitter-patter of feet follows him as he races through the never-ending corridors. Damn it, why now? Why is he here? He thought the mini bosses from the Game Station had all died, ripped apart by an angry spider lady, yet it appears one of them had been spared. Just my luck.

He makes a sharp turn, trying to break line of sight. The enemy is hot on his trail, his panting growing increasingly audible. Adrenaline, his old friend, is already kicking in strong, pushing him to move faster, think quicker. He can go for the train but he risks bringing PJ Pig-A—Pug-A—whatever the fuck his name is with him. Fighting isn’t really an option—he doubts the flare gun will have the same effect on PJ as it does the Mini Critters. Should he try to hide?

He chances a look over his shoulder. He’s right there, drooling at the mouth, ready to devour him. Shit shit shit he’s too close, too close, I need to—

His body crashes straight into a wall. A very furry wall. Wait. That doesn’t sound right. Perplexed, he opens his eyes.

CatNap stands there wordlessly, gaze fixated on him. What is he doing here? Wasn’t he just taking a nap some rooms back?

Before he can wrap his head around it, PJ catches up to him. John whips around, backing away until he’s practically hiding behind the purple mass beside him. CatNap doesn’t move, though he does shift his focus to the other sentient toy in the room.

Finally noticing CatNap, PJ pauses in his tracks. As he looks up at the significantly larger creature, his body appears to become smaller, tiny legs quivering with fear. CatNap doesn’t need to act, let alone speak for his presence to bring dread into the room. That’s part of the reason he’s so terrifying; how little he has to try to make someone feel as if they’re an inch close to death.

PJ hesitates, taking a few steps backwards. After a moment, he gives up, crawling away as he disappears through an air vent. John can only stare at where the pug-a-pillar once stood, his mind blanking. What just happened? One moment he’s running for his life and the next moment he’s being… saved? By CatNap, of all people. Is this a dream?

He opens his mouth, perhaps to say something, anything to break the unsettling silence. CatNap beats him to it.

“The person who wrote the letter. I can find them. On one condition.”

He frowns. He’d nearly forgotten about that. As his brain catches up, he realizes CatNap just offered to help find the culprit behind the mysterious letter. Question is, what’s the catch?

“What’s your condition?”

Rather than answering his question directly, CatNap turns around, mysteriously treading down the hallway.

“Come.”

Without another word, John follows.

It’s a good thing CatNap chose to seek out the man. Sure he was capable of handling himself, but his clumsiness is an unpredictable thing, and it would truly be a shame if he perished now after lasting so long. The man is useful, as much as he loathes to admit it. That is why he’s decided to enlist his help, offering him a deal that will benefit them both.

After navigating through a series of vents, CatNap and John arrive at his new hideout. It’s a hidden room located somewhere within the walls, small enough to accommodate maybe three people his size at most. A single lamp is all he has to illuminate the space, with various trinkets and knickknacks surrounding him, things that he’s collected while exploring the upper floor.

John steps into the room before looking around, confusion written on his face.

“What’s all this?” He picks up one of the items CatNap had so carefully organized: an ice cream scooper he found lying on the floor of a communal kitchen.

“I was gathering things.”

“For…?”

CatNap doesn’t answer. He’s not entirely sure what compelled him to start collecting random objects around the factory. It started when he had stumbled upon a broken tennis racket in the lost-and-found box. There was nothing special about it, but somehow, it reminded him of the conversation he had with John in the warehouse.

Hobby.

John had mentioned it before, stating that he used to enjoy fitness. Collecting things seemed like something one might consider a hobby. So in an act of impulse, he started to gather things that he found even mildly interesting: a piggy bank, an ice cream scooper, miscellaneous buttons. Things that were shiny, or smooth, or unusual. Things that reminded him of his past. He’d quickly grown a collection of items for him to horde and organize as he sees fit.

But there’s one item in particular that he wants to collect the most.

“I need a book.”

John is in the middle of scrutinizing a jar of marbles when he hears CatNap speak. He lowers the jar, raising a brow.

“A book?”

“Somewhere in Playcare. It is brown and made of leather. It belongs to me, and I want it returned.”

“You want me to find it and bring it to you?”

“Yes. You will know it when you see it. Do not open it.”

The man seems more or less confused. To his surprise, he doesn’t question it. “Alright then. Any clue where it could be?”

“I cannot recall. I suspect I hid it somewhere in the orphans’ home, a place hard to find.”

John snorts. “What, like a toy box?”

He pauses. That was… strange.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?”

“Repeat what you said.”

“Oh, uh, I was just—it was a joke. Forget it.”

He doesn’t miss the nervous hitch in his voice, the way his eyes suddenly avert to the side. He’s hiding something. The only question is, what could it be? No matter.

He’ll find out sooner or later.

“Bring me the book, and I will find out who wrote the letter.”

“Deal.”

With that, he turns back towards his collection, dismissing John. As he’s reorganizing the items by color, he hears the man’s footsteps heading towards the exit. Before he leaves, he hesitates.

“Hey, CatNap.”

He stops what he’s doing, only slightly annoyed at being interrupted, and listens to what the man has to say.

“Thanks. For uh, helping me back there. I really appreciate it.”

A moment of silence falls between them. Truthfully, he hadn’t known the man was being pursued. His original purpose for seeking him out was to offer him a deal, which he’d done. It had been a simple coincidence that he caught him in the middle of danger.

“Save your gratitude. I did not intend to help you.”

“Right. Well either way, you got me out of a tough spot. I owe you one.”

It’s starting to become a pattern how often John renders him speechless. How the man could possibly feel in debt to CatNap is beyond him. Perhaps being trapped in the factory is starting to warp his mind more than he thought. It just doesn’t make sense how he could say something like that so casually.

John leaves the room after that, once again leaving CatNap to his own devices. A minute passes before he picks up the jar of marbles, the one John had been studying earlier. He wonders if the man likes shiny things, too.

He’ll have to ask him next time.

Chapter Text

“So let me get this straight,” Lucas, who is in the process of twirling a lollipop between his fingers while leaning against the building, asks him yet another question out of the millions he’s asked since arriving today. “You’re trying to overthrow a tyrannical government filled with toy cannibals. The big bad guy sent his minions to stop you, but you defeated them. Now you’re trying to rebuild society by taking down the older system and creating a new one, with less murder and more democracy, or whatever. Did I get all that right?”

John, who is in the middle of hauling this week’s shipment from Lucas’ car to inside the factory, with absolutely no help from Lucas whatsoever, grunts in response. “That’s one way to put it.”

“That's sick. I mean, the democracy part is kinda meh, but the taking down the system part sounds cool as hell. Personally I think the government in general is a sham—”

“—Why am I not surprised?—”

“—and that the entire system is rigged. Don’t even get me started on the absolute joke we call minimum wage. I get paid pennies to deal with people yelling at me because their card declined. Then they insist that our machine is broken and demand to speak with the manager like he’s gonna magically fix it when the guy can barely even fix a schedule.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then there’s this one guy who came into the store, demanding a refund because his pizza was supposedly undercooked, even though he ate half the box. And of course my manager allowed it because the customer is always right. It’s so freaking stupid.”

John unloads the last armful of groceries before turning to face Lucas. “Do those things really bother you that much?”

Lucas sucks his teeth. “You don’t get it.”

“Kid, I think you’re forgetting who’s older here. I’ve worked customer service jobs before.”

“Then you should know what it’s like to be looked down upon.”

John raises an eyebrow. Sure, he’s aware that being apart of the workforce is the equivalent of shoveling coal into a furnace in hopes of sustaining fire, only to realize the fire never ends meaning you never stop shoveling coal. That being said, he can’t help but feel the teenager is being slightly dramatic.

“I think you’re taking it a little too personally,” says John. “Most people aren’t paying as much attention to you as you think. Besides, there are a lot harder jobs out there. Trust me.”

He doesn’t mention how they’re standing right next to one of the companies he used to work for, nor how it led to the most major regret he’s ever had.

Lucas is silent, shoulders hunched as he scowls at the ground, though it looks a lot less serious given his lips are purple from sucking on a grape lollipop.

“I’m not saying it’s the hardest job in the world,” Lucas continues. “I just hate when people dismiss me, like that guy who ate half the pizza. It just feels shitty, you know? Like, clearly the guy’s just trying to get away with a free pizza, and it’s like, whatever, who gives a shit? But like, I’m the one who has to deal with the mistreatment. All I’m asking for is some respect.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone, laced with exhaustion and something else, something melancholy. It’s an unusual look on the normally sarcastic teen’s face, and suddenly John feels like an ass for disregarding his rant. He awkwardly scratches the back of his head, trying to think of what he should say.

“…It is strange that your manager let him get away with that,” John offers after a moment of deliberation. “Back when I was working fast food, we’d never issue a refund if they’d eaten half the meal already. That’s just unreasonable.”

Lucas grunts. “Must be nice. We issue refunds if the customer so much as finds an olive on their cheese pizza. Better to just give them what they want then risk being fired over some stupid shit, that’s the motto.”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah. But whatever. Once I graduate high school, I’m done with this shit. I’ll go to college and finally move out of my parents’ house. I don’t know what I’m gonna major in yet, but it doesn’t matter. I just wanna be free of this place.”

John wants to ask more questions, like why does he need this job when he’s still in high-school, or why is he so eager to move away from his parents? But he keeps his mouth shut. After all, he knows what’s it like. It’s exactly how he felt when he was younger, before he resigned himself to working in an office, before Playtime Co., before… everything.

He walks over to Lucas, joining him against the wall. Lucas offers him a lollipop which he accepts. He tears off the wrapper, revealing an orange flavored sucker, and proceeds to plop it in his mouth. Lucas follows suit.

“He shouldn’t have allowed that,” John says around a mouthful of hard candy. “Your manager. You deserve respect.”

He can sense Lucas watching him from the corner of his eye. Eventually, he grunts, a sign of appreciation… he thinks.

“Thanks.” Lucas bites down the rest of his lollipop with a loud crunch, and John cringes internally, not wanting to imagine what his trip to the dentist will look like in the near future. “So this ally of yours, what’s his name—DogDay? What’s he like?”

He considers the question. “He’s a good guy. Big, orange, furry. Kinda similar to the person you saw before, but less intimidating.”

“Right, Catnip.”

“It’s CatNap.”

“And you say they used to be friends?”

“That’s what it seems like. Then DogDay tried to rebel against The Prototype, and well… CatNap didn’t like it.”

“So what, did he like, torture him?”

John looks at him. Lucas looks back. Realization dawns on him.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Dunno. Right now I need to find this book so I can figure out who wrote me that ominous letter. After that, I’m gonna start focusing on doing some research, maybe develop a plan to rehabilitate the toys beyond just feeding them.”

“You really got this whole thing figured out, huh?”

“Not really.”

“True. Well good luck with that, and good luck with Catnip—”

“—CatNap—“

“—and the other guy, DogDay. You know who they remind me of? Scar and Mufasa. You know, from the Lion King?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Like I could totally see one of them hanging from a ledge and the other one going long live the king. And you’re like Simba, just witnessing it all. Don’t let Mufasa die, Simba.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t that make me DogDay’s son?”

“You’re overthinking it. My point is, they’re like Scar and Mufasa. One of them is evil and manipulative, the other is brave and good-hearted.”

It’s a ridiculous statement, yet it causes him to ponder. He thinks of CatNap, the things he’s done. Some say evil is subjective. John isn’t sure where he leans in that regard; he’s never been much of a philosopher. But if he had to decide, he’d say some things were just inherently wrong.

CatNap is evil because he does things that are wrong, possibly without feeling any remorse.

But is it really as simple as that?

After all, what if he thinks what he’s doing isn’t wrong? Or what if he knows it’s wrong and he does feel remorse, but can’t bring himself to stop? It doesn’t justify what he’s done, but does it make him more redeemable, more human?

He can feel a headache starting to emerge. Maybe now is not the time to be thinking about this.

“I don’t think that’s an accurate comparison,” John eventually settles with.

“You’re really nitpicking this analogy, aren’t you?”

“No, I mean—I don’t think it’s as black and white as that.”

Lucas shrugs. “You know them better than I do. I’m just going based off what you told me.”

Silence falls over them once more, their backs leaning against the wall as they gaze out over the land in front of the factory, a one-way street surrounded by grass that eventually stretches out into a forest. In moments like this, he’s reminded of how there’s a much bigger world out there beyond the factory.

It’s tragic to think how the toys must long for that freedom. Or maybe they’re too frightened, who knows.

Eventually, Lucas pushes himself off the wall. “Guess it’s time to bounce. Later.”

John nods. “Don’t work too hard. Wouldn’t want you strangling any customers over a pizza.”

“You got jokes, old man.”

His lips quirk upwards as he watches the teen climb back into his car. That kid is really something else; he’s surprised he’s even still helping him. He figured Lucas would get bored by now, after the initial novelty of discovering something strange and unusual wore off. Maybe he underestimated him.

Let’s just hope he isn’t in any true danger the way John fears he is.

Per CatNap’s suggestion, John decides to start searching for this mysterious book in Home Sweet Home. He can’t say he’s particularly thrilled about returning to this place which may or may not be haunted by dead orphan children, but ah well, what can you do? Just another Tuesday, at this point.

The wooden boards creak as he traverses the halls, eyes scanning for any sign of a brown leather book laying around. Why does it always seem like John is the one stuck doing these fetch quests? And of all things, why a book?

He can’t deny that he’s curious. There must be something special about this book, especially considering CatNap specifically told him not to open it. A secret, maybe? Something dark and mysterious hidden within the pages. Or perhaps some valuable information involving the experiments that took place here, records or data entries that could be devastating if put into the wrong hands.

Or maybe CatNap’s simply a hoarder and this is just a regular book.

Both explanations seem equally plausible, all things considered.

After several hours of searching, he still hasn’t found this damned book. He’s searched through bedrooms, hallways, the main entrance. Nothing. There were a few instances where he’d find a book, and hope would fill his chest, only to realize it was a children’s book or a dictionary, not what he’s looking for.

Where would I hide something if I were a child?

Unfortunately, it’s not an easy answer to come to. He’s already checked under the beds, in the closets, drawers—those seemed like the most common places a kid would hide something.

Where would I hide something if I were Theodore Grambell?

Also not an easy answer. He doesn’t know who CatNap was before he became… well, CatNap. The most he knows about him is from the files he’s read, which according to those, described the kid as sneaky and clever. Still, that doesn’t really narrow down the possibilities.

His willpower is around 5% when he arrives in the kitchen. If he doesn’t find it here, he’s calling it a day. The room is dusty and disorganized, pots and pans left abandoned on the stove tops, cabinets nearly torn off their hinges. And of course, more claw marks. He’d be surprised if he found the book here; practically everything has been plundered or destroyed.

A quick search through drawers and cabinets lend him no results. Nothing under the sink nor in the fridge. He’s just about to call it quits when—

He sees it.

There, right above the counter near the middle, is a hole in the ceiling. It’s a high reach, but he can imagine if a child were to climb the counter and use a stool, they could theoretically reach it.

Without another thought, he climbs upon the counter and reaches into the hole. Almost immediately he feels something flat and leather touch his fingertips. He wastes no time grabbing and pulling it out.

There it is. A book, brown and leather, and…

It’s a bible.

He stares, perplexed. This is the special book CatNap was looking for? In hindsight, maybe he should’ve seen this coming. But why specifically this one? Surely there were other bibles lying around this massive facility.

Unless it’s personal.

After all, CatNap did say not to open it…

Temptation itches beneath his skin. He looks around, ensuring there are no witnesses. Unable to hold back his curiosity, he flips it open.

The first thing he notices is the initials TG carved into the back of the cover. Definitely a personal bible, then. He continues to flip the pages. Most of it is standard, filled with religious passages revolving around Christianity. After flipping through some of the pages, he notices one of the verses is highlighted in yellow.

[Philippians 4:13: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”]

He stares at the highlighted phrase, trying to deduce its meaning. Was this Theodore’s way of remembering which verses stood out the most to him? It seems likely. He finds another highlighted verse shortly after.

[Proverbs 3:5: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”]

A small note is scribbled on the side of the verse in childish handwriting: [This one is hard]

He frowns. Something about that note seems… worrisome. He remembers the conversation he had with CatNap, back when he almost ran away from the factory. Faith is not rooted by certainty. Had Theodore once doubted himself too?

One last verse catches his eye.

[John 15:12: “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.”]

There’s another small note scribbled on the side: [My favorite! <3]

He stares at the highlighted portion, thumb brushing against the faded ink of Theodore’s handwriting. An image of a child appears in his head, sitting on his bunk bed, scribbling in the margins of his bible. While other children were playing, this child was highlighting passages about strength and trust and love, things he more than likely lacked in this awful place. Did Theodore not have any friends?

Was he lonely?

A heavy feeling settles over him, causing his stomach to churn, the pages seemingly burning against his fingers.

I shouldn’t have read this.

He closes the book, ignoring the guilt in his chest as the words of the bible linger in the back of his mind.

He returns to the upper floors, Theodore’s bible tucked safely beneath his arm. It isn’t long before he finds CatNap in his hidden room, his back turned as he messes with something on the floor. His tail is swishing back and forth, the sound of glass lightly clanging against the floor.

John approaches, cocking his head in an effort to see what he’s up to.

“What you got there?”

CatNap turns around. A shiny red ball lies on the floor. Puzzled, he steps closer, picking up the glass ball before inspecting it.

“Is this an ornament?”

“Do you like it?”

He looks up. CatNap is staring down at him intently, almost expectantly. He fidgets.

“Sure? It’s uh, it’s pretty.”

For whatever reason, CatNap seems pleased with that answer. He sets the ornament down on a nearby shelf, then focuses his attention on the task at hand.

“Anyway, I found your book. It was a pain in the ass, by the way, really wish you’d stop being so creative with your hiding places.”

He offers the bible. Slowly, CatNap extends his arm, grasping the book between two claws. He watches as he quickly flips through the pages, as if checking to see if they’re still intact. Anxiety hums beneath his skin. Logically, there’s no way CatNap can tell whether he read the book. Still, the fear lurks there, coupled with the guilt of having invaded his privacy.

Luckily, CatNap doesn’t press him. He closes the book, turning his back once more as he adds it to his collection.

“Well done.”

John releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It’s done. He’s fulfilled his part of the deal, now it’s time for CatNap to return the favor. He fixes the feline with a stern look, getting straight down to business.

“Alright, I held up my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn. I need you to find out who the culprit is who infiltrated my hideout last week and wrote me that letter.”

“I know who it is.”

He stiffens. What?

“You knew this whole time?”

“No. I searched and found clues. Now I know.”

Oh. He hadn’t expected him to finish investigating so quickly, and for a moment, he thought he’d been tricked.

CatNap slowly turns around, glowing eyes settling on him. He creeps closer, and John forces himself not to back away, muscles tense. CatNap almost seems amused, but doesn’t say anything. He leans closer, his face right in front of John’s.

“The Prototype.”

There’s a brief moment where ice floods his veins, leaving him frozen to the spot. He stares at CatNap with wide eyes, searching for any signs that this was a trick, or at the very least a cruel joke.

“You’re shitting me. Are you—are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. The Prototype was in the security room, which means he knows where he sleeps, where he eats, where he plans. Hell, he must know where he’s storing the food supply considering it’s right next door.

“But how did he know where to look? The only people I’ve told about my hideout are my friends.”

“Perhaps there is a traitor amongst your group.”

He snorts. “Nice try, but you aren’t going to make me doubt my friends. Maybe he sent one of his followers to spy on me.”

“The Prototype seldom speaks directly to the others.”

“Then how else did he find out?”

CatNap doesn’t respond. It seems even he doesn’t have an answer.

John sighs, running stressed fingers through his hair. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. At least now I know The Prototype is onto me. I’ll have to be more cautious from now on, maybe even relocate. Though I doubt I’ll find another spot as convenient as that one…”

He realizes he’s talking to himself. He clears his throat.

“Anyway, thanks for the info.”

CatNap hums noncommittally. John turns around, preparing to leave, only to find himself reluctant to do so. It feels kind of… rude to leave now. Not that he has any reason to stay. They both got what they needed, why prolong this interaction longer than they have to?

He thinks about this morning, hanging out with Lucas in front of the building. An idea occurs to him. He turns around, meeting CatNap’s gaze.

“Have you ever been outside?”

CatNap doesn’t recall whether he’s ever seen the stars.

In his dreams, perhaps, where thoughts are limitless and imagination runs free. But dreams are just that—illusions that are inevitably broken. When John offers to take him outside, he finds himself curious. Do the stars look different in real life than they do in his dreams? It’s been a long time since he’s thought about it.

John proceeds to open the door to the main entrance. Once open, the man gestures for him to come outside.

CatNap hesitates.

He’s never had a reason to go outside, not since becoming the priest. His purpose was in Playcare. Anywhere else became irrelevant. That’s how it was before, how it’s always been.

By crossing this line, he thinks he may be passing the point of no return.

He looks at John. The man seems to notice his hesitation, but doesn’t comment on it. He just stands there, waiting, a question in his gaze. An open invitation while still giving him the chance to back out.

As if CatNap were the type of person to back out of anything.

Shoving aside all doubt, he moves forward. He places one deliberate paw outside the door. Then another. Soon his entire body is outside.

It’s dark, the sun having fallen some hours prior. Not that he minds; he’s always preferred the comfort of darkness. There’s something else, too. The air feels… different. Fresher.

He looks up.

Stars.

Thousands of tiny dots in the sky, even brighter than the ones in his dreams. He sees the moon, crescent-shaped like the pendant dangling from his neck, emitting a pale glow across the landscape. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once.

The irony of having never truly witnessed nighttime isn’t lost on him.

“Wait here, I’m gonna grab something.”

John steps back into the factory, leaving CatNap alone as he stands in front of the factory. He suddenly feels… out of place. Not belonging. His nostrils flood with dozens of foreign scents, ears honing in at every miniscule sound as if it were an alarm blaring.

Overwhelming, he realizes is the correct word to describe this experience.

After what feels like eternity but was likely only a few minutes, John returns to the front of the factory. The man is holding a mug in each hand, moving carefully as if he’s trying not to spill whatever is inside them. Then he offers one.

“Hot cocoa?”

Unfamiliar with the beverage, CatNap merely tilts his head. John seems to sense his confusion and gives him clarification.

“It’s from one of those little packets you heat up in the microwave. Nothing fancy, but I figured a night like this would go well with a nice warm drink.”

“I’ve never had it before.” CatNap doesn’t know why he bothers disclosing that, but he does.

“Yeah? Try it. Careful though, it’s hot.”

After yet another moment of hesitation (the thought of hesitating at all irks him more than he’d like to admit), he accepts the mug. It looks comically small in his paw, the steam rising, warming his face. He tilts the rim against his bottom lip, allowing the drink to trickle down his throat.

It tastes sweet. Chocolatey, but not chocolate milk. As he catalogues the flavor in his mind, John is leaning against the wall, seemingly watching him.

“You like it?”

Another rare instance where CatNap feels motivated to answer.

“Yes.”

In his peripheral, he sees the corner of John’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Good.”

John sits down then, making himself comfortable. CatNap follows suit.

For a moment, they do nothing but sit against the wall, sipping hot cocoa while gazing at the stars above. It’s oddly… pleasant. He doesn’t quite understand why. It isn’t as if they’re doing anything stimulating like hunting, though he wouldn’t describe that as pleasant. Intoxicating, more like. A drug.

This is different. Calmer, but not boring. There’s a pinch of anxiety that he might start to think again but at least right now his thoughts are clear. Mostly.

Why did John invite him outside again?

They aren’t allies, CatNap has made it clear that he isn’t joining his side no matter how much he tries to sway him. As far as their deal, John has already given him what he wanted—his bible. Yet he continues to be around him.

Does it matter? It’s pointless to keep asking the same question over and over. They’re here now, hanging out, being—frenemies? Acquaintances? He doesn’t know what they are. He knows what they’re supposed to be, but they aren’t, and it’s confusing, confusing, CONFUSING—

“I read your book,” John’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Sorry, I know you said not to.”

A flicker of surprise passes through him, but only briefly. He figured the man would read it despite being told not to. They’re similar, in a way, both creatures of curiosity.

Instead of holding it against him, he asks, “Do you believe in God?”

John readjusts his position on the ground. “I’m not very religious, no.”

“I used to believe there were angels watching over me. Guardians. Although I could not see or hear them, I knew they were there. I could sense them in my dreams.”

The man seems caught off guard as CatNap begins to share something personal. He doesn’t blame him; it is incredibly out of character. Perhaps the calm atmosphere is affecting his judgement, or maybe John’s confession sparked an urge to open up as well.

After a moment, John asks, “Do you think they’re still there, watching over you?”

“I do not know. I haven’t sensed them in a long time. I think they have abandoned me.”

“Why would they abandon you?”

“I did not believe in them. Not enough. I succumbed to doubt, allowed myself to lose faith. Now they no longer appear in my dreams.”

“What if they aren’t gone? What if they’re still trying to reach you?”

CatNap stares at the stars. Bright, yet so distant.

“Then perhaps I am too far to reach.”

A heavy silence falls over them, aside from the crickets chirping in the grass around them. His words are the truth, and he doesn’t regret saying them, even if it did somewhat ruin the mood. It’s better if John understands now that he is in fact unreachable. Maybe then the man will give up, will stop trying to help him for once.

After all, if The Angels don’t believe in CatNap, if God doesn’t believe in CatNap, then why should he?

But John doesn’t believe in The Angels or God

Before he can think of a counter against that particular thought, John’s voice breaks the silence again.

“Have you ever seen the Lion King?”

CatNap doesn’t bother turning his head at that, opting to just stare at the man from the corner of his eyes. John awkwardly clears his throat.

“Uh, nevermind. There’s this friend of mine who mentioned something about evil and good-heartedness, and it got me thinking about things like morality, choices, what it actually means to be a bad person. And yeah, you’re pretty… intense. And by intense, I mean bloodthirsty, manipulative, cruel—”

“Get to the point, Rat.”

“Right, sorry. Just—look. You’re not perfect. Far from it. But I think God, or the angels, or whatever powerful beings are watching over us can agree that you were put in an impossible situation. Nobody can expect you to know how to handle it. Hell, I’m sure I wouldn’t have survived half the shit you went through.”

“I just think, if there really is a God… then they’d be kind enough to forgive you. Otherwise, are they really worth devoting yourself to?”

CatNap’s mind seems to latch onto one word in particular.

Forgive.

A concept so incredibly foreign and strange that John may as well have spoke it in a different language. He struggles to wrap his mind around it—forgive. There is no forgiveness in this world, only punishment. Punishment and redemption in the form of sacrifice. Worship and submission in hopes of becoming a part of something greater than he is.

CatNap is nothing. The Prototype (God?) knows that, The Angels know that, everyone knows that.

They would never…

John rubs the back of his neck. “But what do I know? I’m just a guy.”

CatNap barely hears the man, too busy trying to comprehend the ideas invading his head. Forgiveness isn’t something he deserves. He doesn’t need it. He just needs to serve HIM. Right? He just needs to be good for HIM because God is GOOD even when he ISN’T GOOD and CatNap just needs to STOP THINKING and just do WHAT HE’S TOLD.

But God isn’t here. He’s not. And CatNap can’t keep waiting. HE CAN’T. It’s so hard, doesn’t God realize how hard it is? He’s trying to trust he’s trying he’s trying but HE CAN’T because he DOESN’T UNDERSTAND and John is saying—

John.

Would John forgive him? Would he? Does CatNap want John to forgive him? Does he? Are they friends?

No, they can’t be. They aren’t. They shouldn’t. CatNap wants to DEVOUR him. He wants to. He should. Do it. DO IT. DO IT WHILE HIS GUARD IS DOWN. EAT HIM. EAT HIS SOUL—

No.

Not him. Don’t eat him. He’s your favorite. He loves us, he said so, remember? He told us to love each other like he loved us. Right? Is that him? No?

He turns his head slowly before staring at John. The man is distracted, expression casual as he drinks the last of his hot cocoa, pale moonlight casting shadows across his face.

This man, who CatNap has tried to kill since he first found him passed out in the train station.

This man, who CatNap has tortured with hallucinations of death and suffering.

This man, who CatNap has hurt, four slashes hidden somewhere beneath his shirt.

Apologize?

He wants to. He should—

“You’re getting lost in your head again, aren’t you?”

CatNap has to suppress the urge to jump as he is once again snapped out of his thoughts. He didn’t even realize John had turned his head, and was now facing him, expression still casual despite having just caught CatNap staring at him.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about, don’t worry about it. Let’s just enjoy this moment. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

CatNap turns back towards the night sky, allowing his thoughts to fade into the background. Tomorrow, he thinks. He’ll try to understand forgiveness tomorrow.

“Yes… yes, it is.”

Chapter Text

John munches on a turkey sandwich as he checks the security cameras. They’d tried something different today—instead of only offering prepackaged foods, he and his friends made sandwiches for each lunch bag. Surprisingly, it was Kissy’s idea. It took some extra effort on their part, but seeing the joyful responses from the residents made it worth it, and it got him thinking about how they can continue developing their food preparation.

But he’ll save that idea for their next meeting. Huh. Is this what it feels like to be a manager? He had never filled the role despite being offered a managerial position multiple times at several different jobs. It felt too intimidating back then, being a leader. Now he’s grateful for it.

He finishes the last bite of his sandwich before glancing over at the monitor displaying the Gas Production Zone.

DogDay is standing there. Wait—what is he doing walking around? Shouldn’t he be resting?

His immediate worry coupled with the oddness of seeing DogDay standing up for the first time is enough to push John to his feet, rushing to the cable car without a second thought.

DogDay is still there by the time he arrives. He hasn’t seemed to notice John’s presence yet, expression contemplative as he stares up at the empty gas chambers which once held the red smoke. John can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now. He almost feels bad for coming here. What if he needs space?

He shakes the thought from his head. If DogDay needs space, then DogDay will tell him, he’s sure of it. Until then, John is going to do his best to look out for his friends.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

DogDay turns around then, his gaze settling on John. “Angel, hello. I was actually just exploring Playcare. It seems so different from what I remember.”

“Yeah, a lot’s changed. But you shouldn’t be walking around like this. You’re still recovering.”

“Don’t worry about me. I feel better now than I have in a long time. Really.”

Oh, he’s one of those. Not that John can blame him. He’s been guilty of overworking himself from time to time.

…Okay, maybe all the time, but that’s beside the point.

John crosses his arms and activates what his coworkers call his stern voice. “You feel better because you’ve been resting. All that’s gonna go down the drain if you keep pushing yourself too hard.”

DogDay has the decency to look slightly guilty, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It just feels so nice to be able to move again.”

His chest clenches at that. He can only imagine how freeing it feels, moving around after ages of being held in captivity. He can’t be too mad at him, even if he is risking his health by pushing his body.

John’s expression softens. “I get it. Just… be careful, alright? The moment you start feeling like something’s wrong, go lie back down. I’m not about to lose you again, you understand?”

DogDay is silent for a moment. Then he turns his head away, covering his mouth with one large hand, as if trying to cover up a laugh. John frowns, confused.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just… how should I put this? Kissy described you as a mother hen. Now I’m starting to see what she meant by that.”

John gapes. Kissy said that? He should’ve known—it’s always the quiet ones.

“I am not.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing. I find it admirable how caring you are. For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great parent.”

He knows DogDay is trying to cheer him up, but the suggestion that John would somehow make a great parent only fills him with anxiety, the idea of being responsible for a living, breathing child too nerve-wracking to bear. Not to mention, it reminds him of the existential dread of being in his thirties and having accomplished little to nothing in life. At least that’s how he feels.

John huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Just promise you’ll take it easy, alright?”

DogDay nods. “I promise.”

“Good. And by the way, I haven’t forgotten about those burgers I owe you. I just need to find a grill, then we can have ourselves a barbecue. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked anything, though, so I apologize in advance if it doesn’t turn out right…”

DogDay does that thing again, where his expression somehow softens despite being unable to change his face, for the most part. It’s in his voice too, the growliness not as present.

“I’m grateful you’re cooking anything for me at all. Thank you, Angel. I look forward to the barbecue.”

If it were anyone else, he’d think they were just being polite. But this is DogDay, and he knows he’s being sincere because that’s just the kind of person he is, honest and friendly to a fault. The guy’s basically sunshine incarnate. It’s no wonder he was friends with CatNap despite him being… well, CatNap.  

“But enough about me,” DogDay continues. “How are you feeling?”

John smiles appreciatively. “I’m actually feeling pretty good. The food pantry is running smoothly—everyone loved the sandwiches. It seems like most of the toys in Playcare are starting to feel more comfortable and less hostile.”

DogDay hums affirmatively. “That’s true. This is the most active I’ve seen Playcare in years. I imagine being less hungry has improved their mood.”

“Definitely. I just wish we were able to feed the rest of the factory, too, but that requires more resources and helpers than what we currently have. And also…”

John trails off as he remembers the message sent to him by The Prototype. If the guy’s aggravated about them reforming Playcare, he knows he’ll be absolutely livid if they try to feed the rest of the factory, too.

Screw him. John isn’t scared of the The Prototype no matter how smart and influential he is. That’s a lie, he is scared, but not enough to back down no matter how many creepy letters he decides to leave in his hideout. Just try to stop me you disembodied claw machine.

DogDay seems to notice his sudden silence as he tilts his head. “Something else on your mind?”

John sighs. “You remember that note I told you guys about?”

“I do. Did you discover who wrote it?”

“Yeah, I did. It was The Prototype. He broke into the security room while I was out.”

DogDay’s expression darkens, and John is reminded of the sun being dimmed by clouds. “I should’ve known. The Prototype isn’t pleased unless he’s striking fear wherever he goes.”

“I just don’t get how he found out I was staying in the security room.”

“Unfortunately, he has eyes everywhere. It’s how he caught KickinChickin when he tried to run away. After The Hour of Joy, things were… chaos. All of us were struggling to cope with it. Kickin wanted to leave, had been talking about it ever since things started going downhill, but it was too dangerous.”

“Then one day, he finally snapped. He made it to the upper floors and tried to escape through the front entrance. He didn’t make it far before The Prototype hacked into the security defense system.”

John frowns. He doesn’t recall the factory having a security defense system installed. And why on earth would they need a security defense system?

A sense of dread falls over him. “What security defense system?”

“The hidden turret guns right outside the entryway.”

John nearly chokes on air.

“What?!”

DogDay tilts his head. “You didn’t know? After the Huggy Wuggy incident, the company installed turrets to prevent toys from running away. It was meant to immobilize us should we try to escape, that way we could be recaptured without as much danger to the employees. That’s what happened to Kickin. He tried to flee, and The Prototype hacked into the turrets before using it to gun him down until he could no longer run.”

He swallows thickly. “Is that how he died?”

DogDay scoffs. It’s the most bitter sound he’s ever heard from him.

“If only The Prototype were that merciful. No, the bullets weren’t what killed Kickin. After he’d been gunned down, The Prototype dragged him back into the factory and did what he always does. Sent a message.”

John feels sick.

That could have happened to him. Had CatNap not been there to stop him, he would have been gunned down.

And Lucas… oh god, Lucas.

Adrenaline kicks in again, only this time he isn’t fighting for his life, so all he can do is stand there helplessly as he’s struck with a sudden burst of energy, as well as overwhelming fear.

What are you standing there for?! You have to save Lucas!

The thought seems to snap John out of his trance, his body literally jerking. He whips his head towards DogDay, and John can only imagine how panicked he looks, but he doesn’t care because he can’t let Lucas die he can’t he’s so young—

“Hey, hey,” DogDay crouches down in front of John, raising his hands placatingly. He lets his hands hover before slowly bringing them to John’s shoulders, never once leaving John’s line of sight. “It’s okay. Everything is alright. Breathe, Angel.”

He does so. While he focuses on controlling his breathing, DogDay’s hands remain firmly on his shoulders, grounding him. John appreciates the gesture, even though he can’t verbalize that at the moment.

In. Out. In. Out.

After a moment, he manages to decrease himself from panicking to highly anxious. He nods at DogDay, prompting the canine to release his shoulders, though he still remains crouched in front of him.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” DogDay’s expression is worried, eyes leveled with his.

“It’s Lucas. He’s in danger. I have to tell him.”

“Your friend from the outside? Ah, I see your concern. But fear not. I don’t think your friend is in any danger.”

John throws him a look of disbelief. “What do you mean? Of course he is!”

“If The Prototype was going to kill him, he would have done it by now. Trust me. I know it’s hard to believe, but I have a strong feeling your friend is safe.”

A conflicted feeling stirs within John. He wants to believe DogDay’s words, but to base Lucas’ safety on a feeling isn’t enough. That being said, he does bring up a good point. Why would The Prototype not kill Lucas? He’s the one bringing in the supplies, so it would make sense to get rid of him. And yet he hasn’t. Is there some sort of ulterior motive John doesn’t know about?

It doesn’t matter. Right now, he needs to take action. He’ll think about the what ifs later.

“Is there any way to disable the turrets?”

DogDay rubs his chin. “I’m not sure. Surely there’s no harm in trying.”

Unfortunately, they aren’t able to disable the turrets.

As John and DogDay reach the upper floors, they discover that the security defense system is linked directly to a control panel. Said control panel requires a password in order to unlock it.

John makes two attempts to guess the password before an automatic warning message pops up, letting them know if the third password attempt fails, the alarm system will be triggered. He imagines the chaos that would occur should the alarm go off and decides then that it isn’t worth the risk.

“You did your best, Angel.” DogDay rubs his back reassuringly. “Let’s head back.”

John sighs before nodding his head. He should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, he can’t help the wave of disappointment that goes through him. It’s just not fair. Why does The Prototype get to have so much power over them? Even with all the progress they’ve made, there’s still that lingering sense of danger in the air, of knowing that The Prototype is still out there. Watching. Waiting.

It’s almost laughable thinking about it now, how little choice John actually had in whether he stays or goes. As if he could ever escape the factory when in reality, there’s a turret threatening to obliterate him should he try and leave.

Good thing he didn’t choose the cowardice path after all.

“I don’t like this,” John says to DogDay, the two of them heading back towards the train station. “It feels like we’re playing right into The Prototype’s hands—claws? Whatever, you know what I mean.”

DogDay hums affirmatively. “Not much we can do about it, I’m afraid.”

“It just doesn’t make sense. If The Prototype doesn’t want me feeding the toys, why spare Lucas? Why not shoot me as I’m bringing in groceries?”

“It is strange. Do you think it’s possible The Prototype doesn’t want you dead?”

John snorts. “Yeah, right. It’s just a coincidence that nearly every toy who worships him tries to kill me.”

“It’s difficult to tell what he’s planning, but it seems like he’s being more lax than usual. Perhaps I’m overthinking it. It just seems… odd, the way he’s behaving lately.”

“Have you ever met The Prototype?”

“Not any more than you have. I’ve seen the claw, but never the rest of him. All the ones who have seen his true form are no longer alive, CatNap being one of the few exceptions.”

It isn’t news to him that hardly anyone has seen The Prototype’s entire being. Even Poppy hasn’t seen him fully. But it does make him wonder, why hide himself? Is he that distrusting that he only allows a select few people to see him in person?

His thoughts spring back to KickinChicken. He’d never met him, obviously, but if he’s anything like DogDay then he was most likely a good person. Yet in the end, he still fell. Another victim of Playtime Co. Another person John failed to save.

“You said that The Prototype… murdered KickinChicken for trying to escape. What about the rest of the Smiling Critters? What happened to them?”

A dark, heavy expression settles over DogDay’s face. He doesn’t respond, just continues to walk forward, tension rising in the air. Too soon, John realizes, then immediately tries to mend his mistake.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine. I was the one who brought up Kickin. It’s only natural you’d be curious about the rest of them. It’s just…”

“You don’t have to talk about them if you’re not comfortable. Seriously, it’s fine.”

DogDay is silent again, seemingly gathering his thoughts. John waits for him. It’s the least he can do.

“…It is difficult, thinking about what happened to the other Smiling Critters. But I do want to tell you about them. We were practically family, the eight of us. I’m just… not ready to talk about it yet.”

“I understand.” Eager to change the subject, John gestures towards DogDay’s legs. “You still feeling okay? You’ve done a lot more walking than you initially planned, I bet.”

DogDay looks down at himself, scruffy and neglected, yet still functional. “I feel alright, surprisingly.”

“You sure? No aches or pain?”

“Just the usual. Nothing significant, I promise.”

“Alright then, I better not find out you’re lying to me.”

There’s a mischievous glint in DogDay’s eyes, and John can tell from that expression alone what he’s thinking: Mother Hen. John fixes him with a look.

“Cut it out.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“No, but you were thinking it, I can tell.”

The playful banter is enough to lift both their spirits. Maybe John had overreacted. Sure, the idea of there being firearms linked to the factory’s control system is a bit… discomforting. But if The Prototype isn’t going to use them so long as John doesn’t try to escape, then technically he shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Hopefully.

They turn another corner. By now, they should be nearing the train station. The hallway is dark, quiet aside from their footsteps. DogDay’s feet are louder than John’s. He briefly wonders how capable the canine is at stealthing, or if his skills lie elsewhere. His character is based off of a dog, so surely he’d be good at hunting, though it’s hard to picture someone as friendly as him hunting someone down—

He can hear DogDay behind him, hands thumping against the floor of the tunnels. His heart races in his chest as he tries desperately to get away. Another miniature toy blocks his way, and he can barely register which of the Smiling Critters it is, too focused on trying to survive.

He’s forced to go the opposite direction, and god he can’t take this, it’s too much, he can hear DogDay’s growl getting closer, it’s right behind him, and the tunnels are too small, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t—

John inhales deeply, pulling himself back into the present. It wasn’t DogDay’s fault. He wasn’t in control. It’s over now, there’s no need to think about the past. Everything’s okay now, just don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

Wouldn’t it be crazy if DogDay turned around and ripped your head off right now?

“Do you really think Lucas will be okay?” John doesn’t register the slight shake in his own voice. Thankfully, neither does DogDay.

“He’ll be fine. The Prototype has no reason to hurt him.”

“Except for the fact that he’s our one and only source of food.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to entirely cut off your food supply.”

“Did you forget the note? He doesn’t want us to eat.”

“He doesn’t want us toys to eat, but it’s possible he still wants you to eat, which further supports my theory that he wants you, Angel, to stay alive.”

John frowns. He… hadn’t thought of it like that. Actually, now that he thinks about it, why wouldn’t The Prototype just hide in John’s room and slice his throat while he’s sleeping? Surely that would be the easiest way to get rid of him. Unless what DogDay is saying is true.

Could The Prototype really want John to stay alive?

He considers it.

“Fine. Let’s say you’re right, and The Prototype wants me alive. Why? What’s his motive?”

“Maybe he needs you.”

“What could he possibly need me for?”

DogDay looks at him. “I—”

It happens so fast.

One moment, they’re walking down the hall, then the next moment, DogDay’s being hurled towards the ground by a large purple blur. Alarm shoots through John, his heart jumping to his throat. He whips around.

CatNap has DogDay pinned to the floor. There’s a wild look in his eyes, not unlike what John has seen before, but it’s been so long that it shocks him all the same. His feet feel frozen to the spot, the air having escaped his lungs entirely.

He can hardly fathom what he’s seeing, signals overloading his brain as he watches silver claws press against the back of an orange furry head, the other paw gripping his wrist, the sadistic look on CatNap’s face—

“DogDay!”

“Angel, run!”

DogDay’s voice is terrified as he tries in vain to squirm out of CatNap’s grip. CatNap pays no mind to either of their fears, almost seeming to revel in it. The hostility radiating from the giant purple creature is strong, suffocating, and how did he forget CatNap was on the upper floors, he should’ve known not to bring DogDay here, oh God what was he thinking—

“Heretic.”

CatNap hardly even seems to notice John’s presence, his gaze locked on DogDay’s as he slowly leans closer, claws sinking dangerously into the canine’s fur. A whimper escapes DogDay’s throat, and it’s then that John finally snaps out of his shock.

He finds an electrical outlet on the wall and quickly shoots the Green Hand towards it. Once electrified, he aims the hand at CatNap.

“Let him go!”

CatNap lifts his head, finally acknowledging him. He notices the Green Hand and seems to go still for a moment. DogDay is still pinned beneath him, looking desperately at John.

“I’m not gonna ask you again,” John warns, his grip tightening on the handle, finger right above the trigger. “Let him go, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you.”

CatNap stares. His breathing is heavy, and John isn’t sure if it’s because he’s angry or excited, but it unsettles him either way.

Finally, CatNap releases DogDay.

As DogDay scrambles away, John immediately rushes to his side. No punctures. No wounds. No bleeding. Thank goodness. After ensuring there were no injuries, John steps in front of DogDay defensively, shielding him. He continues to point the Green Hand at CatNap, not trusting that the feline won’t change his mind and attack them both.

CatNap is still quiet, though his eyes remain locked on John and DogDay. They’re at a standoff. John tries to think past the fear in his mind, tries to look back at CatNap with as much determination as he can muster. He’ll be damned if he’s losing DogDay again, not this time. He’s willing to give up his life if it means keeping his friend safe, and he’s certain CatNap knows that.

The telephone rings, cutting through the silence in the air. Without breaking eye contact with CatNap, John answers it.

“Can’t talk right now, Ollie.”

“Wait, John!” Ollie’s voice sounds through the receiver. “There’s a situation in Playcare! Someone accidentally messed up some wiring, and now the Toy House is completely on fire!”

His fingers subconsciously tighten against the telephone. If the Toy House is on fire, it could easily spread to the other buildings in Playcare. For fuck’s sake, it’s one thing after another—

“DogDay, go help put out the fire,” John commands, not once turning his back to the threat standing across from them.

“I can’t leave you here,” DogDay’s voice is full of disbelief. “What if he hurts you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just go!”

DogDay hesitates. Eventually, he nods, running off towards the train station.

John is left alone with CatNap.

The tension is still heavy even after DogDay is long gone. Now that there’s no person to defend, the determination seems to slowly seep out of John, leaving him feeling more helpless, confused. He’d thought they’d been making progress. He thought CatNap was starting to change. Surely their interactions had to have meant something, right? So why was he doing this?

“What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?”

CatNap doesn’t reply. He just stares. Always staring, as if he’s some sort of observer and not a participant. As if he doesn’t understand that no one can read his mind. Just talk to me already.

Frustration builds in John’s core. “Answer me! Why did you attack him?”

“He’s a heretic.”

“He hasn’t done anything to you.”

CatNap doesn’t appear to be listening. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Maybe he can’t comprehend it. Either way, John is fed up.

“You will not touch him under any circumstances. Do you understand?”

No response.

“CatNap.”

The feline seems to register his tone, his head jerking just slightly in his direction. His breathing is getting progressively heavier, the Green Hand having long since lost its electricity, leaving John defenseless. At any moment, CatNap could give into his urges, could fill the room with red smoke, ensuring that the last thing John sees is a colorless beast before lunging forward and tearing him apart.

Just as he’s considering running away, CatNap turns towards the nearest vent, and in one quick motion, he disappears. John releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his heart pounding viciously in his chest.

He has no idea how he made it out of that unscathed.

Also, he’s pretty sure all the progress he’s made with CatNap has just been thrown down the drain. And DogDay is more than likely in danger. And the Toy House is on fire.

“Fuck my life.”

The fire is nearly contained by the time John arrives. Luckily, his friends managed to pull together to stop the flames, with DogDay and Kissy Missy doing most of the heavy lifting. The ventilation system also helped to get rid of the smoke.

All in all, it wasn’t as bad as John thought it would be.

The same can’t be said about what happened prior to that.

John taps his pen restlessly against his notepad, head propped against his knuckles as he sits in his rolling chair. Near him, Cat-Bee is sitting on the table holding the monitors, watching him worriedly. He’s grown to appreciate the little broken toy’s presence—she’s one of the few toys who hasn’t tried to attack or manipulate him, which means she isn’t associated with any bad memories.

John reaches a hand out to pat Cat-Bee on the head. “Too bad there aren’t any therapists around here, huh CB?”

Cat-Bee meows sympathetically. John sighs, turning his attention back to the notepad.

To-Do List

• Expand the food pantry (side note: need more resources/helpers)
• Research toys
• Open up a medical center (side note: need medical supplies—the lab maybe?)
• DogDay’s BBQ
• Figure out how to disable turrets
• Help CatNap
• Figure out how to help CatN
• Figure out why CatNap’s so hostile towards DogDay…?

The last item on his list is what he’s most fixated on. He knew it was a bad idea, letting CatNap find out about DogDay being alive. Had he been thinking more clearly, he’d have never brought DogDay out of Playcare, but then he found out about the turrets, and Lucas potentially being in danger, and the thought just hadn’t occurred to him at the time, and…

Well, there’s no point in making excuses. CatNap knows now. The question is, what will he do about it? He wants to believe that his words got through to him, but there’s no guarantee it did. At worst, CatNap decides to hunt DogDay down anyway. At best, CatNap listens to John and ignores DogDay’s existence entirely.

Those are really the only two options. Besides, he doubts anything positive could come out of the two of them interacting with each other.

Suddenly, DogDay’s words from earlier come to his mind.

“We were practically family, the eight of us.”

The eight of us, he said. Not seven. Eight.

There’s something significant in that small detail. Unfortunately, his brain is too exhausted to fully pick it apart, and the more he tries to think, the stronger his headache becomes. So with a sigh, he sets down his pen and closes his notepad.

Shortly after, he falls asleep, Cat-Bee curled up at the end of the mattress.

HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE

One job. He had ONE job. Atone for his sins. Accept his punishment. In return, God would spare him. He’d let him live even if it meant having to suffer.

But he ESCAPED. And now he’s with John. JOHN. They were walking, TALKING as if they were BEST FRIENDS.

He hates it. He hates it HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE HATES IT HE

That MUTT.

He’s mocking CatNap right now, he must be. He thinks he’s won, escaping his eternal punishment, stealing John from him.

No.

JOHN stole DOGDAY. DOGDAY was supposed to be CATNAP’S. NOT JOHN’S.

He hates them. Both of them.

John thinks he can tell CatNap what to do. Can tell him who he can and can’t DEVOUR. John isn’t GOD so he can’t tell CatNap what to do HE CAN’T. He doesn’t have to listen. HE DOESN’T. HE WON’T. I’ll—

I’ll.

What will I do? What should I do? What do I want? What do I need?

I don’t know. I don’t know I DON’T KNOW I DON’T KNOW I DON’T KNOW I WANT TO EAT I WANT TO EAT I WANT TO EAT I WANT TO EAT I WANT

I

DON’T

WANT

TO

DO

THIS

ANYMORE

What about forgiveness?

Right. He said he’d think about that. That he’d try to understand it. Even though it makes NO SENSE it’s either forgiveness or devour. He’s so tired of devour, but he’s scared of forgiveness.

He…

He doesn’t know what he wants. He just wants the emptiness to stop. How does he make it stop?

IT WON’T EVER STOP. YOU DESERVE THIS, DON’T YOU REMEMBER? YOU’RE NOTHING.

But he’s tired of being NOTHING.

THAT IS NOT YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE.

I hate you. I hate you I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD

G E T  O U T  O F  M Y  H    E       A         D

CatNap curls within the darkness, his claws sinking deeper into his own head, breathing erratic and uncontrolled. He doesn’t know if the world is shaking or if it’s just him. But he knows he needs to stay where he is, because if he leaves now, he’s going to devour again. And he doesn’t want that.

Because if he devours, then he won’t ever get to drink hot cocoa with John again.

So he suffers.

Chapter Text

Log Date: 02-20-1991

It’s CatNap’s first day in Playcare.

According to the scientists, this is a good thing. Three months of development have led to this moment. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. He’s just started getting used to this routine, to the training and tests he’s constantly subjected to. As grueling and monotonous as it is, at least it’s become something familiar.

Now things were changing again.

It terrifies him, but he tries to cope. He knows what happens when he doesn’t cooperate, when he freezes or struggles or questions things. So he doesn’t. He moves forward like a puppet on strings, escorted by strangers in lab coats and hazmat suits too vibrant for his liking, until finally he reaches the facility.

The lights are nearly blinding, but it isn’t the sun that greets him. Instead, there are powerful lightbulbs attached to the high ceiling, revealing fake clouds and blue walls. A dome, he realizes uncomfortably.

“This is your new home,” says one of the several lab coats escorting him. He can’t be bothered to attach a name to any of them.

“From now on, you are to help manage and care for the orphans of Playcare. Your role as Guardian is important to ensure the health and happiness of our future generation. Remember, you were chosen for this because you are special, which means it’s your responsibility to fulfill your role.”

Her voice is robotic, as if she’s reading from the same tired script.

“DogDay should be here shortly to help you settle in.”

With that, the scientists leave, the hazmat suits following behind them. He almost feels relieved the workers are no longer present until he notices the security cameras attached to the walls. Right. How foolish to think he’d be left completely unsupervised, though he couldn’t stop himself from hoping anyway.

He reaches up to touch his bare neck. The metal collar was removed right before he was escorted to Playcare. Perhaps they think it will make him feel less like a prisoner. More likely it’s for the children’s protection, to prevent them from becoming electrocuted should they accidentally touch the metal device.

His thoughts are interrupted by faraway laughter. He looks up. In the distance, he sees dozens of tiny children running around, laughing and screaming with joy.

It feels... familiar. But he can’t place why.

Should I... introduce myself?

The only other option is to continue standing there. The scientist did say that DogDay should be arriving soon, but at the moment, there’s no sign of him...

Curiosity outweighs doubt, and so he decides to approach the main area himself. The children don’t notice him at first, seemingly in the middle of a rather intense game of tag. A boy with a bandaged knee and a missing front tooth comes sprinting across the grass, laughing boisterously. He’s too busy looking over his shoulder at the girl chasing him that he doesn’t realize CatNap is standing right in front of him.

Toothless crashes straight into his leg then falls on his butt. Stunned, he looks up at CatNap.

All laughter ceases abruptly.

While Toothless remains frozen on the ground, the girl behind him stops dead in her tracks, face paling as she stares up at CatNap. By now, all the children on the field have noticed him, looking up at him with various levels of apprehension.

They’re afraid of him. They should be, he makes the bodies go THUD THUD THUD

He feels nauseous.

Say something. He wants to, he does, but red smoke lies dormant in his lungs and he worries if he speaks, he may accidentally release it. It hasn’t happened before, but it could. Nevermind the training he’s been given—nothing could have prepared him for this, for the dozens of human faces staring back at him like they know he doesn’t belong, that he’s wrong, with his too big mouth and his too big eyes and his ginormous size.

He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, to reassure them. He isn’t sure if he can. He—

“CatNap! Hey, buddy!”

A chipper voice through the air. He recognizes it.

DogDay?

He turns his head. Sure enough, there he is, running towards him from across the yard while waving his hand in the air. It’s as if sunlight has infiltrated the darkness shrouding his mind, and suddenly he’s being brought back down to earth, his borderline panic attack fading away.

It isn’t long before DogDay reaches him. CatNap watches as the canine slows to a stop before bending over, hands resting on his knees, panting as he tries to catch his breath. How far did he run exactly? It had to have been from one of the buildings as CatNap hadn’t seen him anywhere on the field. He almost starts to feel bad, but then DogDay springs back up, summoning energy from seemingly nowhere.

“It’s so good to see you again!” It’s the most sincere statement he’s heard in a while, a far cry from the detached voices of the scientists. “Looks like you’ve finally graduated from training, huh? That’s great news! See, I told you you’d do a great job. Welcome to Playcare, friend!”

CatNap offers him a single nod. Thank you is what he means to say, but the children are still watching, and so are the cameras, and he’s never been very great at expressing himself, less so in front of an audience.

DogDay huffs, and at first CatNap fears he’s done something wrong, until he sees the glint of amusement in his gaze.

“Still not much of a talker, huh? That’s okay. Come on, let me introduce you to my friends.”

Without warning, DogDay throws an arm around CatNap’s shoulder and begins to not-so-quietly introduce him to the crowd of orphans.

“Listen up, little critters! We’ve got a new guardian joining us today here in Playcare. Let’s all give a warm welcome to the one and only, CatNap! He’s super-duper excited to meet you all, and I’m sure you’re excited to meet him, too. So let’s do our best to make him feel at home, okay critters?”

DogDay’s enthusiasm is contagious, so much so that it breaks the tension floating in the air. The children’s faces gradually morph from apprehension to curiosity. The pressure in CatNap’s chest eases just slightly.

“Yo, DogDay!”

A new voice cuts through the air, one he hasn’t heard before. Both CatNap and DogDay simultaneously turn their heads.

A group of colorful creatures approach from across the yard. What surprises him is that they’re all the same size as he and DogDay, albeit with different features.

The Smiling Critters

The scientists gave a brief explanation of who they were. Something about mascots for a TV show and now CatNap would be representing one of those mascots. It doesn’t make much sense to him at all, but he knows better than to question it.

“Is this the new guy?” A green rabbit approaches him first. Judging by her voice, she’s also the person who shouted earlier. “About time. We were beginning to think you weren’t ever gonna make it out of training.”

That does not sound like a compliment. DogDay throws the rabbit a look expressing disapproval.

“What? We were all thinking it!”

One of them—a blue elephant with ears almost as big as his head—awkwardly clears his throat. “What Hoppy means to say is, we’re happy to have you here. I’m Bubba Bubbaphant, and you must be CatNap, is that correct?”

The answer is fairly obvious. Still, he nods.

“In that case, welcome to Playcare, CatNap. You might already know this, but each of us are Guardians. Are you familiar with what that means?”

Not really. He shakes his head.

“That’s not surprising. They never do explain it very well, those workers…” He clears his throat again. “Anyway, allow me to summarize. A Guardian is basically someone who guides and cares for the orphans here in Playcare. As such, we are each given routine tasks.”

“Some tasks we share together while others are unique to us. Unique tasks correspond with what we call our roles, something that is assigned to us based off our skillset. For example, my role is Tutor. I’m in charge of assisting the orphans with their education, and one of my unique tasks is tutoring children who require extra assistance.”

“And I’m the Coach!” The rabbit—Hoppy, was it?—butts in. “I’m in charge of making sure the kids stay physically active, and that includes hosting some kickass games!”

“Language, Hoppy!” The elephant—Bobo? Bubba?—scolds.

“My name is Bobby BearHug,” the red bear is the next to speak, her voice cheerful. “But the kids call me Momma Bear. I’m the Supporter, which means my job is to offer emotional support to the little ones. Mainly I just give them hugs—you’d be surprised by how helpful it is.”

“I’m KickinChicken." There’s a smug look on his face as the yellow chicken introduces himself, “And my role is being awesome. Seriously, all I gotta do is be myself and the kids all look up to me. My official title is ‘Counselor’ but I prefer ‘Celebrity’ which sounds way more cool.”

A few of the Smiling Critters groan in unison. Hoppy rolls her eyes.

“Oh brother. Just say you help motivate the kids and move on. Show-off…”

“Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m famous.”

At that, Hoppy lightly elbows Kickin, earning a snicker from him. They seem close.

“Guess I’m next, huh?” The pink pig who seems like she’s barely listening to the conversation chimes in, her finger—hoof?—digging in her ear. “The name’s PickyPiggy. Folks call me the Cook, not that they allow me anywhere near a stove. I help prep and serve the meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“I’m CraftyCorn,” says the white unicorn, who is perhaps the quietist of the bunch. “My role is the Artist. I’m in charge of helping the children express their creativity through arts and crafts. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And lastly, there’s DogDay.” Bubba gestures towards the aforementioned canine. “I’m sure it’s obvious by now, but DogDay is the Leader. He’s responsible for keeping everything organized, and takes charge when we need it. He’s the very first Guardian assigned to Playcare and has been looking out for us ever since. A very good leader, indeed.”

“Oh, you guys…” DogDay waves his hand dismissively, a bashful but appreciative look on his face.

“Now according to what the workers informed us, your role is the ‘Nightwatcher.’” Bubba speaks directly to CatNap. “You’ll be assigned to not only protect the orphans during the night by watching over them, but also to help them fall asleep. I doubt there are any real threats in Playcare, though, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that part.”

Bubba chuckles, as if the idea of there being danger in Playcare is ridiculous.

“Now then, any questions?”

CatNap is still struggling to keep track of their names when he notices they’re all waiting for a response. He has many questions. The problem is, he doesn’t know where to start. ‘Why are we here?’ sounds too blunt. ‘When can we leave?’ even more so. In the end, he can’t decide what to ask, leading to an awkward silence.

Kickin scratches the back of his head. “He’s kind of quiet, isn’t he?”

“He’s just shy,” DogDay says. His arm is still noticeably wrapped around CatNap’s shoulder. “Besides, you remember what it’s like moving into Playcare for the first time. Can you blame him for being overwhelmed?”

Picky grunts in affirmation. “Yup, we’ve all been there. Don’t worry, new guy, it’s not as bad here as you think it might be. Plus the food is way better than the crap they serve you during training.”

“Language!”

Bobby giggles. “Well I, for one, am looking forward to getting to know you, CatNap. Let me know if you ever need a hand—I’d be happy to help!”

“Me too,” CraftyCorn looks at him shyly. “I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed. If you ever feel the need to express yourself, come visit the arts and crafts room. I have plenty of art supplies that might help release some stress.”

“Ooor,” Hoppy adds, “you can visit me in the fitness studio if you’re looking for a more physical kind of stress-relief. We do workouts, dancing, yoga—anything to get the blood flowing. Ain’t no rules in Hoppy’s fitness studio.”

“Now who’s showing off…” Kickin mutters.

As the Smiling Critters continue to discuss things like rules and activities, CatNap’s mind begins to wander. This is real. These colorful creatures before him, made of fabrics and cotton and who knows what else, are real. Speaking and sharing ideas like regular human beings do.

It’s disturbing the more he thinks about it. He can’t help but wonder if their entire existence is based around children, these... orphans that they’ve been assigned to care for. Everything from their cartoonish designs to their childish names suggests they were made for kids.

But that can’t be right. Toys aren’t meant to be living. Whatever this is, whatever they are, was not something nature intended. Yet here they are. What does it all mean? Why aren’t any of them questioning this?

What would God think?

An uncomfortable tightness appears in his chest. It’s as if he’s been stuffed with too much cotton—and maybe he has, maybe at any moment the stitches on his furry skin will burst open, his insides spilling open for all the lab coats to pick and prod at—and because of that, he’s finding it harder to breathe.

There’s a gentle squeeze on his shoulder that brings him back to the present. Thankfully, DogDay seems to have noticed his increasing discomfort, and decides now to address the group.

“Alright, that’s enough chatting for now. It’s almost lunchtime and you know what that means: time to round up the children.”

“Whoever gathers the least kids is on clean-up duty!” Hoppy shouts before bolting across the yard.

“You say that every time only because you know you’re the fastest!” Kickin complains as he chases after her.

Bubba just chuckles and shakes his head, seemingly used to those two’s antics, then follows them towards the yard. Picky, Bobby, and Crafty aren’t far behind, still conversing as their voices grow distant.

DogDay turns to CatNap.

“You comin’?”

CatNap shoves his doubts somewhere in the back of his mind for now. With a nod, he begins to walk forward.

Then he senses something. A presence. Watching them.

He looks over his shoulder.

No one is there.

Perhaps it was just his imagination.

He brushes it off before following DogDay.

Log Date: 02-21-1991

“That ability of yours is pretty impressive!”

CatNap and DogDay are sitting together on the staircase in front of The Counselor’s Office, the latter leaning back casually with his elbows propped up as he observes the orphans playing in the yard.

“Some of the kids can be pretty restless. Thanks to you, it’s easier for them to fall asleep. You should feel proud of yourself!”

CatNap doesn’t respond.

Last night he had done it—the main purpose of being given the gift of the red smoke. He put the children to sleep, as instructed. And just like the first time he was forced to use this newfound ability, it made him feel sick.

At least the victims were lying in bed this time, as opposed to collapsing against the floor like ragdolls.

Doesn’t make you any less guilty

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

“Hey,” DogDay’s voice is soft, sympathetic. “You feeling okay, bud? I know it takes some getting used to. Trust me, you’re not alone. But I promise things will get easier. The first few days are always the hardest.”

He wants to feel reassured by DogDay’s words. Maybe he’s right and things will get easier over time. But right now, they aren’t easy. He’s become prisoner to an organization he knows little to nothing about, and his main job is forcing innocent children to sleep.

He hates it.

His body stiffens. No, he shouldn’t feel this way. Hatred is the opposite of love. To allow yourself to feel hate is to allow bitterness and anger to grow in your heart. He doesn’t want that. God taught him to love and forgive.

And yet…

He doesn’t realize his claws have begun digging into the stone staircase. DogDay’s brows furrow in concern.

“CatNap?”

“Hey guys!” Hoppy’s voice interrupts the moment as she waves at them from across the yard. “We’re playing hide-and-seek. Come join us!”

“Sure thing, just give a sec’!” DogDay stands up from the staircase, dusting off his lap before offering CatNap his hand. “Wanna play? It may take your mind off things. Or you can sit this one out if you’re not feeling up for it. Either way, it’s up to you.”

He considers it. It would be nice to play a game; most of his time in the padded cell was spent being bored out of his mind. A fun activity might be exactly what he needs to stop feeling so negatively.

He nods before accepting DogDay’s hand, lifting himself off the staircase.

The game is straightforward. While the children hide, the Smiling Critters seek. He’s uncertain at first, but soon finds that he’s actually rather good at this game. If he doesn’t see the children first, he hears them. Smells them.

The first child he discovers hiding under a bench. It’s her voice that gives her away—small giggles that she tries to stifle as she lays tucked away in a fetal position. He approaches her slowly, each step deliberate. It feels natural, somehow, to approach like this.

Her giggles cease once he crouches down and peeks underneath the bench.

She’s small. Her skin is brown, her cheeks are full. She has pigtails adorned with hair ties, the kind with the shiny miniature balls attached. Wide dark eyes stare back at him, and as the girl shrinks into herself, he realizes how scary he must look, eyes glowing and breathing heavy and—wait when did that happen?

He controls his breathing, then tries to speak.

“Don’t be afraid.”

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumps, then immediately begins to cry. His chest tightens with guilt. That didn’t work. Anxious to stop the child from crying, he offers his tail.

Her cries begin to quiet down as she notices, dark eyes locked onto the furry appendage. He controls it, letting it slither beneath the bench before stopping in front of her hands. A peace offering. With hesitance, she reaches out, fingertips brushing against his fur.

A flip seems to switch in her mind. Her face morphs from confusion to curiosity as she cradles his tail with surprising tenderness. He flicks the tip of his tail under her nose, the effect immediate as she giggles and smiles in response. Relief sinks into him, as well as something else, something warm.

“You’re a nice kitty,” the little girl decides. CatNap doesn’t argue, and instead allows her to play with his tail for a short while longer.

Afterwards, he lets the girl ride on his back while they search for the remaining children.

Log Date: 02-22-1991

Home Sweet Home harbors many long, dark corridors. CatNap once again finds himself patrolling these corridors during nighttime. He has yet to encounter a conscious child, most of them appearing to have fallen asleep naturally.

He routinely checks each bedroom, scanning the numerous bunkbeds where the orphans rest. Once he’s certain they aren’t still awake, he moves onto the next. It’s a tedious process, but he chooses not to neglect it in case there are consequences. At least by patrolling the halls, he’s also keeping an eye out for potential threats.

He’s determined to make sure no monsters roam these halls aside from him.

With that thought, CatNap continues his search, listening for the creak of a floorboard, a misplaced breath. An unrecognizable scent or a sign of movement within the darkness. But nothing seems out of place.

He checks the very last bedroom, opening the door and peeking inside. The orphans are all lying peacefully in their beds, eyes closed, breathing steadily. A quick scan tells him that they’re all asleep.

Except one.

In the corner of the room, he notices a child hiding beneath their blanket on one of the top bunks. To anyone else, it may seem like they’re sleeping just like the rest of the children. But CatNap knows. He can hear them shuffling just a bit too much to be asleep, can practically smell the anxiety of a person pretending not to be awake.

He approaches the bunk bed quietly, not wanting to disturb the other children. Then he carefully removes the blanket.

A boy with curly hair and freckles looks up at him. But instead of becoming scared or guilty, he pouts.

“Awww man. I’m not ready for bed, Mr. CatNap.”

There’s an action figure of a superhero in his hand. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to be living.

“Can I stay up for just a bit longer? Pretty please?”

A pang of guilt hits his chest. A part of him wants to let the child keep playing. But he knows they’re being monitored. It’s one thing for CatNap to be punished, but he can’t risk the child getting in trouble. It’s his job to protect them.

He shakes his head sadly. Freckles sighs, head falling back against his pillow.

“Oh, alright. Can you put me to sleep then? My body feels jittery, and my brain is all like bzzzzt. It’s like my mind and my body just wanna go go go. It’s way easier when you help me fall asleep. So can you?”

The question catches him off guard. He was prepared for reluctance, maybe even a tantrum, but instead the child… wants to be put to sleep? As if the child doesn’t realize how terrible this is, how terrible he is for doing this. Perhaps he does realize but decides it does not matter to him. He isn’t sure which thought terrifies him more.

He gives the child a moment to settle in against the mattress. Once settled, he activates his ability. Red smoke slowly begins to fill the space. The boy watches in fascination, eyes gleaming and mouth agape. There’s a shift, and CatNap sees the moment his eyes become hazier, unfocused.

Within seconds, the boy falls to sleep. CatNap stares, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath, the action figure hanging loosely from his hand. He pulls the blanket higher, tucking him in. Then he leaves, being sure to close the bedroom door quietly.

That’s when he notices a scent somewhere in the hallway. It smells like…

Roses

He hurries down the hall all while remaining stealthy. As he’s turning a corner, he comes face to face with Bobby BearHug. She gasps, hand jumping to her chest.

“Oh! You scared me.”

CatNap disregards her fright in favor of tilting his head. What are you doing here?

“You’re patrolling, right? Sorry to surprise you. I was having a hard time falling asleep and thought I’d visit the kitchen for a late-night snack. I know we’re not supposed to eat or drink without permission, but...”

Bobby rubs her arm, eyes flickering towards the wall. She’s nervous. Regardless, CatNap doesn’t sense any ill intentions other than sneaking food, which isn’t something he particularly cares about.

He shrugs. I won’t tell.

Bobby’s shoulders sink with relief

“Oh, thank you. I promise I won’t take too long.” She begins walking towards the kitchen area only to pause. “Actually, why don’t you join me? I could use some company.”

A flicker of surprise goes through him. He glances behind him. All the children are accounted for, and there haven’t been any signs of an intruder aside from Bobby, who doesn’t really count. It couldn’t hurt to take a small break…

They reach the kitchen soon enough. There’s a box of prepackaged cookies, occasionally given to the children for snack time. They each swipe a few as well as a glass of cold milk. Once their treasures are obtained, they sit against the wall side-by-side, enjoying their treats within the dimly lit kitchen.

“Don’t tell Picky about this—she’ll get jealous. It’s practically tradition for her and Kickin to sneak off for food in the middle of the night, sometimes Hoppy too if she’s in the mood for it.”

Bobby speaks fondly, not seeming too perturbed by how often her friends break the rules. She herself doesn’t seem like much of a rulebreaker, though, which makes him wonder what the real reason is for her being here.

CatNap tilts his head at her, a nonverbal question. Why are you suddenly sneaking out?

Bobby sighs, eyes falling to the empty cup in her hands.

“To be honest, my head’s been all over the place lately. I just feel so… ugh, you know? What’s worse is that not even hugging the children made me feel better. That always makes me feel better. But today, I just… haven’t been doing so well.”

Her expression becomes gloomy, which is entirely different from her normal, cheerful personality. Then she quickly straightens, seemingly catching herself as if it were a crime to be anything other than happy.

“B-but don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful! I’m surrounded by great friends and children that are so wonderful. I’m given food to eat and a place to sleep and overall, I’m grateful. It can be a little overwhelming sometimes, but I’m not one to complain. Things could be so much worse, right?”

A tense silence falls over them. An unspoken thought lingers in the air. A topic they’ve been avoiding discussing since he first arrived. Neither of them are willing to risk it in front of the cameras.

But there aren’t any cameras in the room. Here, in the darkness, there words are kept secret.

“It was scary, wasn’t it?”

CatNap turns his head. Bobby’s still staring at her empty cup, however, her gaze has become more intense, fingers gripping the glass so tightly he worries it might break. All forms of cheer has disappeared, replaced with something darker.

“No one talks about it. What it was like before we ‘graduated’ into Playcare. It’s like everyone wants to pretend it never happened. DogDay says it’s for the best, that the less we speak about it, the less chances of us getting in trouble. But how can we just forget what they did to us?”

Bobby’s arms begin to shake. Her glowing eyes seem dull, unfocused, like she’s not even there. The shift from cognition to unawareness, only she isn’t asleep. An unpleasant feeling churns in his stomach as he watches her fall apart bit by bit.

“I still remember the screams. I could hear them from the cell they kept me in. They must have come from the other toys, the smaller ones that we sometimes see. A-and I remember… being tested on. There was this one time they injected me with something and I couldn’t move. Then they just left me there, all alone.”

Her voice is becoming more frantic, even as she continues to speak quietly. She sets the glass cup down before hugging her knees to her chest.

“I have nightmares about it. They’re really bad. And the people who run this place are really, really bad. I just know it. And don’t you think it’s strange how we’re supposed to be ‘Guardians’? Are we even adults? It’s like, I’m pretty certain I never grew up but at the same time, I don’t feel like a child anymore. Like a part of me aged but another part of me didn’t, you know? If only I could remember who I was before I… before they…”

A small, distressed noise escapes her throat. It makes his chest constrict, his skin itching as he’s struck with an urge to reach out, to do something to calm her panic. Yet he remains paralyzed. Unable to speak, unable to move. All he can do is watch wordlessly as Bobby buries her face in her knees and begins rocking herself back and forth.

“Oh, I hate this. I hate feeling this way. It’s too much. What even are we? Just some god-awful science experiments? Are we even people anymore? I doubt it. Maybe we’re neither. Maybe we’re nothing.”

Her words make his blood run cold. He realizes she isn’t thinking straight, but something about what she just said makes him feel greatly uncomfortable. Nothing. It’s an odd phrase. They’re both obviously something, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. So why does it bother him that Bobby suggests they might be nothing?

He looks at Bobby, really looks at her. She’s still rocking herself back and forth in an effort to comfort herself. It’s a miserable display, and yet, so human. He realizes then how full of life she is with how greatly she feels things. Her compassion, her enthusiasm, her pain—it’s proof of how much of a person she truly is.

Bobby isn’t nothing.

What about me? Am I nothing?

He hopes not. But that’s a thought for later.

His hand twitches by his side. He reaches out. Right as his paw is about to reach her shoulder, Bobby gasps and abruptly lifts her head, causing him to quickly retract his arm.

 “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—forget I said anything. Um. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, CatNap.”

Without sparing a glance, Bobby stands up and hastily leaves. He’s left alone in the kitchen, the only evidence of their conversation being a scatter of cookie crumbs, two empty glass cups, and the lingering scent of roses.

Log Date: 02-27-1991

"Could you pass me the glitter, please?”

CatNap wordlessly hands CraftyCorn a tube of glitter.

“Thank you, CatNap.”

She looks at him appreciatively before refocusing her attention back on her drawing. It’s arts and crafts day and The Smiling Critters have decided to join the orphans in The School. It’s a relatively calm activity, though some of the children did attempt to run around attacking each other with glue bottles and tubes of glitter, before promptly being shut down by CraftyCorn who warned that they’d be sent back to Miss Delight if they don’t behave.

“Check it out!” Kickin shows his drawing to the table where he, CatNap, CraftyCorn, and PickyPiggy sat along with several orphans. “Whaddya think?

It’s a drawing of what appears to be himself at the beach, riding the ocean waves on a surfboard with sunglasses on his face.

“That’s a great drawing, Kickin,” Crafty says. “I can tell you put a lot of effort into it. The whole page is filled with color.”

Kickin’s chest puffs proudly, his ego boosted by Crafty’s praise.

“Heh, it was nothing.”

“Are those airplanes?” Picky raises a brow, unimpressed.

“What? No, they’re seagulls.”

“Those look nothing like seagulls.”

“How would you know?!”

“And what’s wrong with your body? It looks dislocated. And why’s your head so small—?"

“I’m still working on anatomy, okay?!”

Some of the children snicker and laugh, entertained by Kickin and Picky’s bickering. CatNap isn’t paying any attention, his own paper blank. He’s been staring at it for the past several minutes with no motivation to draw on it.

He’s still thinking about Bobby’s breakdown nearly a week ago, the one that nobody else witnessed except for him. It seems like she’s been feeling better lately. Still, CatNap notices how quickly her eyes dart away when they look at each other for too long, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault.

“Someday, I’m gonna go to the beach,” Kickin continues, him and the rest of the table oblivious to CatNap’s inner turmoil. “I wanna know what real sand feels like and real sunshine. Then I’m gonna kick back and relax with nothing but the sound of the ocean waves. It’ll be the best vacation ever.”

Picky snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. I doubt any of us are gonna be given a vacation anytime soon.”

“Says you. Just you wait, I’m gonna be miles away from this place living my absolute best life. One day you’re gonna wake up and I’ll be gone, even if I have to escape this place myself.”

A memory flashes through his head, so sharp and sudden it stuns him.

“I’m ready,” Theodore says to his friend. His best friend. “Let’s escape this place. Together.”

They make a promise. He sneaks through the facility with his partner by his side. Heart racing. He sees the door. They activate it. There’s burning, burning, burning. He screams. His partner turns around but it’s too late.

It’s over, he failed, he’s dying, HE’S DYING, HE’S DYING

Kickin’s still holding up his drawing of the beach, of an escape that will never happen because HE FAILED and HIS PARTNER IS GONE and THEODORE IS DEAD. An inexplicable anger surges through him and without realizing it, his arm shoots out and—

He slashes the drawing.

Kickin shrieks in alarm, jumping in his seat. His face is shocked as he holds two pieces of his drawing in separate hands, the rest of it having fallen uselessly to the floor.

“Hey! What the heck, dude?”

All eyes are on CatNap, the entire room having gone so quiet you can hear a pin drop. He can sense the confusion and unease spreading through the room. It doesn’t take long to put two-and-two together for those who didn’t witness what just happened, and for those who did, their faces were shocked.

CatNap says nothing, even as he stands there, hunched over with his arm locked in place. His mind is going haywire, too many thoughts and feelings and memories invading him all at once. His fur is practically standing on end, his claws itching with the urge to tear again, anything to make it stop. But he doesn’t do that—the children are watching and they’re afraid, he knows they are, because he’s not good, he can’t be, something is wrong with him.

Eventually, DogDay clears his throat, realizing he needs to take control of the situation.

“A-alright little critters, let’s take a break. Who wants a snack?”

Whatever confusion the children felt is instantly forgotten at the mention of snack time. They cheer before quickly rushing towards the door. Picky leaps at the opportunity to remove herself from whatever awkward confrontation is about to take place, and proceeds to guide the children towards the eating area.

Once Picky and the orphans are gone, the rest of the Smiling Critters turn their attention to CatNap, who has yet to say a word. Surprisingly, it’s Crafty who speaks first, fidgeting nervously.

“Are you feeling okay, CatNap?”

“Is he feeling okay?” Kickin looks at her in disbelief. “What about me? He ruined my drawing!”

“Now now, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this,” says Bubba. “CatNap wouldn’t just ruin your drawing for no reason. Surely it was an accident. Right, CatNap...?”

CatNap doesn’t respond. His head hurts and he can’t think straight. He needs to leave.

Abruptly, he turns around and heads towards the door, leaving the Smiling Critters behind as they watch in shock. Kickin scoffs.

“Seriously? What’s your problem?”

A pang of guilt hits his chest. He ignores it. Without looking back, he exits the room, shutting the door behind him. He’s about to leave but pauses when he hears them whispering on the other side of the door.

“That guy gives me the creeps,” says Hoppy.

“Hey, come on, stop it...” It’s DogDay’s voice that says it.

“No you stop it. I know you wanna be friends with everyone, but you have to admit, there’s something off about that guy.”

“I-I think he’s okay...” Crafty’s timid voice appears.

“Whatever. Bobby, back me up. Don’t you think there’s something strange about that guy?”

There’s a moment of silence with what CatNap can only guess is Bobby feeling conflicted. Then she sighs.

“I don’t know…”

“Seriously? So we’re just gonna pretend he didn’t lash out at Kickin just now? That’s not okay. Am I really the only one concerned about this?”

“I see your point,” says Bubba, “but I also think we may be judging him prematurely. Let’s not let our emotions get the best of us.”

“Tell that to him,” Kickin says. “It’s not our fault he barely hangs out with us. I can’t even tell what the guy’s thinking half the time, he’s so damn quiet.”

“Langu—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, language.”

“Just give him a chance,” DogDay tries. “He’s confused. I really don’t think he means any harm, you guys. He just needs time.”

“If you’re willing to trust him, then be my guest.” There’s bitterness in Hoppy’s tone. “But sooner or later you’re gonna have to admit that some people are a lost cause, and the more you try to help, the more likely you’ll get yourself hurt.”

There’s an ache in CatNap’s chest, threatening to swallow him whole as it spreads through him. He doesn’t listen to the rest of their conversation, making his way out of The School.

Log Date: 03-02-1991

Naps have become a regular occurrence for him throughout the day. He spends all night patrolling so naturally daytime is when he can get some rest.

As he’s lying down underneath a fake tree, a few of the children decide to relax with him, one of them curled up against his body while also taking a nap, another one hanging off his back. A third child reads a book while she leans back against him. He allows all of this, not minding the fact that the children wish to be near him for whatever reason, and continues to nap.

His ear twitches when he hears a child crying.

Across the yard, a worker is holding a child’s wrist, trying to tug him along to The Counselor’s Office. The child is clearly distressed, crying and screaming as he tries to resist.

“Let’s go, Jeremy. This won’t take long.”

“But I don’t wanna goooo.”

“We all have to get checkups every now and then. I need you to be a brave boy now.”

The words do nothing to soothe the boy as he continues to wail. It triggers something in CatNap—his job is to protect the children. The worker is causing one of the children harm by stressing them out.

Intruder.

CatNap carefully removes the children lying against him as they whine in protest. Once standing, he heads towards the pair.

The worker is clearly frustrated by the time CatNap arrives to the scene. Neither he nor the child notice him until he’s standing right before them, shadow looming above.

“Stop struggling already you little brat—"

The man pauses when he sees CatNap. For a moment, he seems surprised, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to approach, let alone a Smiling Critter. However, he quickly recovers, a tight smile on his lips.

“Excuse us, CatNap. We’re on our way to The Counselor’s Office and I have a very stubborn boy on my hands who’s in need of a checkup—”

“Release him.”

The man blinks. It’s clear that’s not the response he was expecting.

“I’m sorry?”

“He does not want to go.”

“It doesn’t matter if he wants to go or not, he’s a child. And you aren’t in any position to be giving orders. Remember your place, toy. Now why don’t you go take a nap?”

A few bystanders begin watching the scene. CatNap pays them no mind. His focus is on the boy looking up at him, face flushed with tears rolling down his cheeks. There’s a small blanket in his arms that he hugs tightly like a lifeline. He stares up at CatNap pleadingly, a glimmer of hope in his large eyes.

CatNap makes a decision.

“Release the child...”

He slowly leans down until his face hovers right above the man’s, a dark aura releasing from him.

“Or I will show you naptime.”

It’s not only a threat, but a promise. The man’s eyes grow wide, and for the first time he looks nervous, afraid. His eyes dart from the child to CatNap. Finally, he lets go of his wrist, storming off back to The Counselor’s Office while mumbling something like damn freaks and don’t get paid enough for this shit.

Once the intruder is gone, the boy looks back up at CatNap in amazement. Suddenly, he lunges forward, hugging his leg tightly.

“You saved me. Thank you.”

A warm feeling spreads through his chest. He’ll likely get in trouble for threatening a worker, but for now it doesn’t matter, because the child is no longer in danger. For once, he thinks he’s done something good. Hesitantly, CatNap wraps an arm around the child, hugging him back.

Across the yard, he catches Hoppy’s gaze.

She’d seen the whole thing, and for once, her expression is unreadable. CatNap doesn’t know what she’s thinking. He isn’t going to try to decipher it, either.

He breaks eye contact, returning his attention to the child clinging onto his leg. Only when the boy runs off to meet up with the rest of his friends does CatNap walk away.

Log Date: 03-03-1991

Something feels different tonight. Like the stars are aligning. The kind of feeling you get when you wake up from a dream, only you remember everything. He feels more keenly aware than he’s felt since waking up in that padded room.

He thinks he knows why.

So he waits. Dim light enters from a window at the end of the corridor. No creaking floorboards. No misplaced breathing. No foreign scents. Everything is still and quiet.

A familiar shadow passes by the window.

His heart skips a beat. He chases it.

He practically falls out of the front entrance of Home Sweet Home in his rush to get to the main area. The lights are off, though it does little to deter him with his nocturnal vision. His head whips around in a frantic attempt to find it—

He sees it. In the distance, there’s a thing… no, a person, waving at him. They’re small with spindly metal fingers.

The Claw.

He remembers him—the person from his dreams, from his memories. His partner, the one who tried to help him escape. An ethereal being surrounded by white light as he reached out towards Theodore, trying to save him. It’s him.

God.

He can’t believe it. He’s back! He has so many things to tell him, so many questions to ask. Does his partner recognize him? Surely he must. After all, it’s his presence that CatNap sensed watching him during his time in Playcare, he realizes that now. He must have been waiting for a chance to reunite with CatNap.

The Claw beckons him closer, their form partially hidden behind a bush. Mesmerized, CatNap takes a step closer—

“What are you doing?”

CatNap jumps, whirling around. Hoppy stands there, looking at him with a confused expression.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling? Also, what were you looking at just now?”

Huh? He glances back over at the bush. The Claw is gone. Disappointment sinks into him. He’d been so close to seeing his partner again, the one he’d nearly forgotten…

After receiving no response from CatNap, Hoppy sighs.

“Never mind. It’s actually good that I caught you here. I… wanted to talk to you.”

A flicker of surprise goes through him. He turns to face Hoppy, curious about what the energetic rabbit would want to discuss with him. She tries to remain nonchalant, though it’s clear she’s unprepared, fingers tapping against her leg in an attempt to let out nervous energy.

“I have to admit, it was pretty cool how you defended that kid yesterday. I hate seeing the doctor too, so I know how he feels. Plus those workers can be real naggy sometimes.”

He agrees. Though he’s not sure what the point of her telling him this is. He doubts he’d seek him out just to compliment him for a rebellious thing he did yesterday.

His suspicious are confirmed as she sighs, crossing her arms.

“Look. I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of distant since the art room incident. DogDay’s been moping about it practically every day. No offense, but I’m still kind of aggravated about what you did. You didn't even apologize.”

Fair enough. He doesn’t fault Hoppy for being upset with him. He’s also well aware that DogDay has been trying and failing to get him to connect with the other Smiling Critters. Better to stay away before you cause anymore unnecessary damage.

“Still, I might have… overreacted a bit. So if it seems like I’ve been ignoring you, well, that’s because I was. And maybe that was immature of me. My friends mean a lot to me and when they aren’t happy, it makes me unhappy, you know? But that’s not an excuse for treating you like an outsider, so for that I’m… I’m sorry.”

Another flicker of surprise. Of all things he was expecting, an apology wasn’t one of them. He isn’t sure if he really deserves one. Still, it… does make him feel a little less hollow on the inside.

Hoppy rubs the back of her neck, mistaking his silence for confusion.

“Aww geez, I’m not good with words.”

Neither am I, he thinks.

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t like me. But can you at least try hanging out with the others again? They miss you. Heck, Bobby keeps fussing about you being all by yourself, and even Picky is starting to worry if you’ve been eating properly. She may seem tough but she’s a softie when it comes to making sure her friends are well and healthy.”

He considers it. In spite of her words, he doesn’t dislike Hoppy nor any of the other Smiling Critters. The only reason he’d begun distancing himself was for their own protection, in case he lashed out again unexpectedly. But if what she’s saying is true about the others missing him, well… he supposes he’ll just have to make sure he’s extra careful not to hurt anyone.

After some consideration, CatNap nods in agreement. Hoppy looks relieved, shoulders sinking.

“Good.”

She turns around and begins making her way back to their sleeping quarters. But before she leaves, she pauses one last time, her back facing him.

“My offer still stands, you know. You’re welcome in my studio if you ever to need to just… let go for a bit.”

The weight of her words isn’t lost on him. Each of them are struggling to deal with this bizarre situation in the best way they can. For Hoppy, exercising is the easiest way for her to blow off steam. He pictures Bobby curled up against the wall, Kickin dreaming about how he wishes to someday escape this place, DogDay’s efforts in keeping everyone happy.

They’re coping. CatNap thinks maybe he’d like to learn how to do that, too.

“Thank you.”

He means it. Hoppy looks back over her shoulder at him. He thinks if she was able too, she’d be smiling right now, a real one.

“Don’t mention it.”

Log Date: 03-20-1991

The Smiling Critters decide to have a sleepover.

It’s during breakfast time when they begin brainstorming ways to bond outside of their usual activities. There were some other good suggestions, but ultimately having a sleepover is what won out. The only issue is that CatNap still has a duty as Nightwatcher to patrol during nighttime hours.

It’s Bubba who comes up with a solution: the sleepover will be hosted right outside of Home Sweet Home. That way they can keep an ear out should anything suspicious occur. It isn’t one-hundred percent foolproof, but then again, nothing dangerous has happened even before CatNap arrived in Playcare, so the chances of it happening now are slim. Not to mention there are cameras and alarm systems in place, so even if something manages to get in, they’ll likely get caught.

CatNap finds himself unwilling to argue with that logic.

After ensuring the orphans are all asleep, CatNap returns to the front of Home Sweet Home. He’s greeted with the sight of the Smiling Critters setting up a massive tent. Surprise goes through him. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t something as creative as this.

“There you are!” Bobby waves him over. “Come on, we’re just about finished setting up.”

CatNap follows Bobby as she gestures towards the entrance. Once there, he ducks down and crawls inside.

What he sees takes his breath away.

Strings of lights hang above the tent, illuminating a floor full of soft blankets and pillows. It’s so simple and yet looks so cozy. Surrounding him are the Smiling Critters, relaxing as they each sit side by side. The only one missing is Picky, who apparently left to grab something.

“CatNap, you made it!” DogDay brightens as he sees him, tail wagging. “The tent’s pretty cool, right? Comes sit back, there’s enough space for all of us.”

DogDay pats an empty spot between him and Kickin. CatNap takes a deep breath, clutching the sheet of paper he has hidden behind his back. Carefully, he crawls towards the empty spot before making himself comfortable. Shortly after, Picky’s head pops into the tent.

“Guess what I gooot?” She pulls out two handfuls of bagged popcorn and candy. “Wouldn’t be a proper sleepover without some snacks, am I right?”

Bobby gasps, her eyes sparkling.

“No way! Where’d you get those?”

“I may or may not have bribed one of the suppliers. Anyway, I’ve been saving this for a special occasion and figured, why not use it to tonight? In celebration of our newest member.”

CatNap looks at her in surprise. He points to himself. Me?

“Of course she means you, buddy.” DogDay’s tail is still wagging. He seems really happy right now. “You’ve been here for about a month now, haven’t you? I think it’s safe to say you’re officially apart of the gang.”

That warm feeling returns to his chest. This time, it has nothing to do with helping the orphans.

“What are we waiting for?” Hoppy makes grabby hands towards the treats. “Pass me that candy!”

The next few moments are spent comfortably enjoying themselves. Crafty doodles something on Bubba’s arm with her washable marker, while the elephant seems content to let her as he marvels at her artistic skills. Hoppy lies back with her head in Bobby’s lap, occasionally shoveling popcorn and candy into her mouth while the bear plays with her ears. Kickin and Picky are in the middle of a debate about whether aliens are real and if so, what are the chances of them surviving an extraterrestrial invasion.

At some point, CatNap works up the courage to tap Kickin on the shoulder. The chicken turns his head curiously.

“What’s up?”

CatNap pulls the paper he’d been holding onto from behind his back and reveals it. It’s Kickin’s drawing, the pieces wrinkled and poorly taped together, but complete nonetheless. Kickin looks stunned for a moment before accepting it.

“Uuh, thanks, I guess. Wait—did you dig this out of the trash?”

CatNap nods.

“Okay, gross. Can’t believe you were willing to do that just for my dumb drawing.”

“It’s not dumb.”

The words surprise even himself. It’s rare that he speaks in front of a group like this. The others recognize this too, their attention shifting temporarily to him. Kickin eyes CatNap suspiciously.

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you destroy it?”

“Kickin...” There’s a hint of warning in DogDay’s tone.

CatNap takes no offense to Kickin’s words. If anything, he’s well overdue for an explanation. His gaze falls to the piece of candy in between his claws, examining it as he tries to articulate his thoughts.

“I was... upset. Bad memories.”

Not the most detailed explanation, but he hopes the message is clear. The last thing he wants is to cause anymore misunderstandings due to his lack of expression. With that in mind, he looks over at Kickin again, then says what he should have said from the beginning.

“I am sorry.”

He means it. He never meant to hurt Kickin or any of them. And he hopes that if he works hard enough, he can prove to them and himself that he isn’t a lost cause. That even though he looks like a monster and sounds like a monster and he’s forced to do terrible things, that he’s still worthy of their time and effort. That he can still be accepted.

Surprise flickers across Kickin’s expression. Understanding dawns on him, erasing whatever traces of doubt and uncertainty that were left. Kickin raises a hand—wing?—and pats CatNap on the back.

“It’s cool, no hard feelings.”

After that, the critters go back to whatever it is they were doing, the atmosphere significantly lighter now that CatNap and Kickin have reconciled. CatNap releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d be holding. It’s then that he feels DogDay’s gaze on him, his tail wagging so hard he can hear it thumping against the pillows.

It’s inevitable when the canine pulls him into a side hug. He doesn’t resist, allowing DogDay to squeeze him, his warm and sweet scent filling his nose. Vanilla.

“I’m so proud of you.”

The words make his heart feel fuller. Bobby notices them and gasps.

“Are you guys hugging? I want one!”

That’s the only warning they get before she barrels towards them, throwing her arms around them both. Cheerful and loving. Roses.

“Did somebody say group hug? Count me in!”

Hoppy’s energy is contagious as she asserts her way into the hug. Bold and refreshing. Peppermint.

“What a bunch of saps. Ah, screw it.”

Picky’s tough exterior is set aside as she moves forward, keeping them balanced with her strong arms. Reliable and uplifting. Citrus.

“Did you know hugs can help release positive hormones like dopamine and serotine? In other words, it’s a great way to boost your mood.”

Bubba carefully joins the hug, being mindful of their positions. Organized and thoughtful. Lemongrass.

“Fiiine, I’ll join in, but only because I know you guys really want me to.”

Kickin jokes as he casually lifts his feathers. Fun and daring. Ylang-ylang.

“Is there room for one more? I’d like to join too, please.”

Crafty gently wraps her arms around them. Sensitive and kind. Jasmine.

All of these scents surround him, yet it isn’t overwhelming at all. Quite the opposite. For the first time in a long time, CatNap feels safe. He’s not sure what the future holds. But right here, right now, he feels like maybe everything will be okay.

Because he’s done something not even Theodore could do.

He found some friends.

Chapter Text

Three days.

That's how long it’s been since John last saw CatNap.

After the incident in the hallway, John had sought him out the following day with a warm meal in hand (if you count microwaved soup as a warm meal) and a speech he prepared about how it's not okay to attack someone unprovoked even if you don’t agree with them.

The plan was to present the food first as a peace offering, then hope the feline had calmed down enough to hear him out. Sure, there’s a chance he might get torn to shreds before he so much as reaches step one, but that’s beside the point.

Sadly, he didn’t get a chance to lecture him or be torn to shreds, for when he arrived on the upper floors, CatNap wasn’t there. He searched the hallways, the hidden room behind the vents, that shelf the feline occasionally naps on—nothing. Only after a few hours had passed and the soup had long since grown cold did John finally give up.

Two days later, there was still no sign of him.

Maybe he needs space, and sure, that's reasonable. But three days? That’s three days of skipping meals. Unless he’s hunting again, he thinks with a shudder. He really hopes CatNap hasn’t gone back to doing that, though it wouldn’t be surprising if he did.

His biggest worry of all isn’t his lack of meals, however. It’s something else, something he’s no longer afraid to admit, because despite everything he does care about CatNap. Twice has his life been saved by the feline: once when John nearly ran away which would have inadvertently caused him to be gunned down by turrets, and twice when he was being chased by PJ Pug-A-Pillar through the halls.

Regardless if it was intentional, CatNap prevented him from being harmed, or worse, killed.

Now he’s missing. For all he knows, CatNap could be hurt, not to mention he isn’t the most mentally stable person. It worries him to think what might be happening right now as CatNap continues to isolate himself. Dozens of possibilities run through his mind and very few of them are pleasant.

He finds himself so absorbed that he barely pays attention to the weekly meeting he and his friends are conducting in the security office. His knee bounces restlessly as he sits in his chair, trying and failing to listen to Poppy discuss how they’re going to expand the food pantry.

“—just like the posters we see hanging from the walls. What do you think, John?”

“Hmm?” He stops chewing his fingernail. “Oh, yeah. Sounds good.”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

Poppy’s expression tells him that she isn’t impressed. He looks at her apologetically.

“My bad. Run it by me again.”

“I was saying we should make fliers to advertise the pantry. We’d be spreading the word and looking for recruits to help prepare and serve food. We could definitely use more hands, what with the amount of toys there are to feed...”

He nods.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Glad you agree! As for setting up a medical center, I was thinking about what you said as far as visiting the lab. It’s risky—after all, that’s where The Prototype lives—but I’m betting there’s some valuable resources down there, maybe even research we can use to help everyone. We should probably wait a bit before we venture down there, but I think it’s worth a shot.”

“You think so? Huh.”

John hadn’t even considered that there could be other valuable resources located in the lab; he’d more so been spitballing ideas for how to obtain medical supplies. He had considered asking Lucas, but the teen is already doing them a huge favor by providing them food, and he can only imagine how suspicious he’d look buying bulks of medkits and painkillers, among other things. He'd hate to get the kid in trouble.

Poppy claps her hands together once.

“Whelp, that settles it. Any questions?”

John gazes at the rest of the members in the room, who have been silently listening in on their exchange. Cat-Bee shakes her head from her spot on John’s makeshift bed. Kissy offers a thumbs up as she sits in one corner of the room, long legs splayed out. His eyes shift to the opposite corner.

He catches DogDay’s gaze.

The canine’s been mostly silent during the meeting, shoulders hunched as he sits crisscrossed. Neither of them have spoken about the incident that happened four days ago. It wasn’t like they were trying to avoid each other—between the Toy House nearly burning down and other random things that kept inconveniently popping up, they just hadn’t found the time to talk about what happened.

Doesn’t make him feel any less guilty about it, though.

DogDay quickly averts his gaze, seemingly thinking the same thing. He looks so tired. It pains him to see the canine anxious like this, especially considering what happened wasn’t his fault.

“Alright then, that concludes our meeting,” says Poppy, oblivious to the anxiety being shared between him and DogDay. “We’ll start on the fliers this afternoon.”

Poppy, Kissy, and Cat-Bee begin heading out of the security room and back towards the cable car. DogDay stands up before looking at John again. He gestures his head towards the train tracks. John quickly gets the memo and proceeds to follow him.

It’s only when they’re standing near the train platform that he notices DogDay’s sun pendant is missing from his zipper. He doesn’t get a chance to question it before DogDay is speaking.

“Sorry for bringing you out here. The truth is, I was feeling kind of cramped in that room. I hope you don’t mind us speaking out here instead.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry I haven’t been able to speak with you privately for a while, I kept getting sidetracked with a bunch of random things—not that I’m trying to make excuses, really, I should have checked on you way sooner than this considering what happened in the hallway, especially since it was my fault—”

“Angel,” DogDay looks at him kindly with a hint of amusement. “Relax. We were both busy. No need to stress about something that’s out of our control.”

He swallows.

“Right. So uh, how have you been?”

A heavy sigh.

“I’ve been alright. Could be worse.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you up there, I wasn’t thinking—”

“You never concealed the fact that he was lurking around. I knew the risks. Do not blame yourself.” DogDay pauses, considering. “Have you seen him, since...?”

John shakes his head grimly.

“I haven’t. He’s hiding somewhere, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to be seen, otherwise I would have found him by now.”

A dark look falls on DogDay’s expression.

“Of course. Still the same old CatNap.”

The words catch him off guard. He’s never heard DogDay sound so bitter. Not that he blames him; the guy has every right to be upset.

“He wasn’t always like this,” DogDay continues. “He—we were friends. Then things started going wrong, and he just... changed. Started distancing himself. I tried so hard to understand, to help him realize that he isn’t alone, but he wouldn’t listen.”

DogDay wraps his arms around himself, as if trying to contain the negative emotions building within him. The frustration in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you angry at him?” John asks after a moment.

That causes DogDay to pause. He appears conflicted.

“…I don’t know. I don’t want to be. I’m more angry at The Prototype, the way he manipulated my friend. It’s pure evil the way he uses him like his personal tool.”

“No argument there.”

“You know what’s awful?” It’s at this point DogDay has given up any semblance of self-control, the air around him growing heavy and sad. “A part of me wishes things would go back to the way things were. Back when The Smiling Critters were all alive and well, and our only responsibility was taking care of the children.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad…” John attempts to be comforting despite the small voice in his head telling him that what DogDay wishes for is to essentially go back to being a prisoner of the factory. DogDay seems to read his thoughts, looking at him with what John imagines is the equivalent of a sad smile.

“It is bad. We were prisoners. Yet here I am, wishing to be imprisoned again if only it meant being able to see my friends once more. Sure we were trapped, but at least we were together. Now they’re gone. Yet somehow, I’m still alive. I survived and I’m free now than I was before, but at what cost?”

There’s a moment of heavy silence as DogDay’s words slowly sink in. John is suddenly struck with a moral dilemma: to be trapped but surrounded by loving friends, or to be free but broken and alone? But technically DogDay isn’t alone—he has John, Poppy, Kissy, as well as Cat-Bee and the other broken toys, for starters.

You can have new friends and still miss your old friends

And that, John realizes, is most likely what DogDay is going through. He and the other The Smiling Critters had been together for at least five years. It makes sense that they would understand each other more than John could.

Eventually, DogDay reverts to what John has discovered is his usual method of coping: pretending not to be sad in hopes of keeping the peace.

“I’m sorry,” DogDay chuckles lightheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to be negative. You’ve done so much for me, and here I am, complaining. That’s not very courageous of me.”

“Stop that,” John chastises lightly. “You’re allowed to feel the way you feel, you know. It’s normal to miss your friends, and it’s clear you have good memories with them despite the shitty situation you were in. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

A look of surprise crosses DogDay’s expression. He looks away, uncertain.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“That’s the spirit. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

There’s a look of genuine appreciation on DogDay’s face as he nods.

“Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

The canine says farewell before heading towards the cable car. John can’t help but admire his strength, the ability to try and stay positive even after moments like these, when he feels hopeless.

Suddenly, he realizes that DogDay never mentioned to Poppy or the others that he’d been attacked by CatNap a few days prior. John had his reasons—selfish, almost traitorous reasons—but DogDay had no reason to remain close-lipped regarding the incident. Was he trying to protect CatNap? Out of love, or fear of his abuser?

That feeling of guilt creeps back into his chest. Without thinking, he blurts.

“You should tell the others. About what happened.”

There’s a pause. DogDay’s back is facing him, tall and lanky like a skeleton, held together by tattered fabric and tired stitches. Yet he stands.

DogDay spares him a glance over his shoulder, eyes full of resolve.

“Your goals are more important to me than exposing him.”

The words nearly steal the breath from his lungs. There’s his answer. DogDay isn’t doing it for CatNap’s sake—he’s doing it for John. A mixture of disbelief, guilt, and awe goes through him all at once. Eventually, it settles into a deep appreciation, along with a determination to do right by DogDay by getting through to his former abuser.

He just hopes it isn’t too late.

They set up shop in The School where John finds himself sitting at a circular table with Poppy and Kissy, a stack of papers in the center of the table along with various drawing utensils. Apparently, the supplies in the arts and crafts room remain untouched even after everything fell into chaos.

Guess paintbrushes aren’t that high on the list of things to loot during a revolution.

“Why are we drawing each and every poster again?” John questions, grimacing at his poor attempt at drawing an apple. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to make copies instead?”

Poppy hums thoughtfully.

“We could, but where's the fun in that? Plus uh... I don’t know how to work a copy machine.”

“Wait, seriously? It’s like the easiest thing in the world. You’re telling me you can sew body parts together but don’t know how to print copies?”

“I only know how to sew because I studied it during my free time. I also studied medicine and general nursing practices only because I find it interesting. We weren’t exactly taught things, John, not unless it involved entertaining children.”

A flicker of surprise goes through him. He never realized Poppy was interested in nursing, but then again, he never asked. Her intelligence is no joke; no wonder The Prototype felt threatened enough to lock her in a box for ten years.

They continue working in comfortable silence. Kissy appears to be enjoying this activity the most, drawing neat lines and shapes with surprising accuracy. Poppy is more focused on her penmanship and making sure the message written on the fliers was clear. Meanwhile, John’s thoughts begin to wander again.

DogDay might be okay with not telling their friends about the incident with CatNap, but is it really okay for John not to say anything? Knowing Poppy, she’ll likely be unhappy, maybe even outraged. But John’s already decided he isn’t going to blindly follow Poppy’s lead anymore, so why be reluctant to tell her? Just to avoid conflict?

It doesn’t feel right. He wants to trust his friends, not keep secrets from them. This whole situation is delicate and balancing the line between peace and chaos is difficult, but lying is only going to make that line thinner. It also makes him feel cowardly, a trait that he’s been actively trying to get rid of.

A sigh interrupts his thoughts. He looks across the table to see Poppy setting her utensil down.

“Alright, spit it out. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I messed up. There was an incident a few days ago. DogDay and I had gone to the upper floors to try and disable the turrets—which, by the way, why did no one bother to tell me there were turrets in this place?”

“I did tell you The Prototype wasn’t going to let you leave. What did you assume I meant when I said that? That he was going to remove himself from his lab and chase after you the moment you stepped out the door?”

“I mean… no, but that’s still incredibly vague.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll try to be more specific next time. Now what were you saying?”

“Right. Anyway, on our way back to the train station, CatNap found us. He immediately attacked DogDay.”

Poppy’s expression grows dark, her eyes locking onto John’s. He doesn’t look away despite the temptation to do so, bearing the guilt and anxiety as it churns in his gut.

“He had him pinned to the ground. All I could think to do was try and stop him, so I…” He finally breaks eye contact, running stressed fingers through his hair. “I threatened to electrocute him. Same way I electrocuted him back when we were in the Safe Room. Since then, no one has seen him.”

There’s a thick moment of silence, mainly between him and Poppy. Kissy seems more or less content to not be involved in the conversation as she continues to make fliers for the pantry.

Eventually, he looks up again, only to see Poppy staring at him questionably.

“Uh-huh. So what’s the issue?”

The words are spoken so casually that John nearly slams his forehead against the table.

“Poppy.”

“I’m serious. You did what you had to do. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t interfered?”

“I could have handled it better.”

“You know who else could have handled it better? CatNap. He could have not attacked DogDay at all. Let me ask you this: do you think CatNap feels bad for harming DogDay?”

“...Maybe?”

“John.”

“What?”

Poppy huffs, tiny arms crossing her chest.

“If CatNap seriously regrets harming DogDay, then he has an awful way of showing it. Though I doubt that’s even the case. Either way, you aren’t responsible for his sudden impulses.”

He leans back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. It’s plain and uninteresting. Unlike the walls, which were covered in childish drawings and paper cutouts. Memories of children long gone.

“I guess you’re right.”

It’s the only response he has to offer. Poppy looks at him, and for a moment, there’s a small flash of guilt in her expression. She releases another sigh.

“Look, it sounds to me like he just needs time. We all have our issues—I’m certainly no saint, that’s for sure. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming that all I can do is step back and try to rebalance myself. It’s possible that’s all CatNap’s doing, so try not to stress, alright?”

Worry clenches his chest as he continues to stare at the ceiling.

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He will. That cat is about as stubborn as you are. Besides, he’s tolerated you for this long, which is a lot longer than I’ve seen him tolerate anyone else, so you must be doing something right.”

Her words are… oddly comforting. He redirects his gaze back to her.

“I’m surprised you’re not more angry about this.”

“Oh, I am. Don’t think just because I’m being nice right now that I’m gonna let you or DogDay off the hook. But… I’m also aware that I’ve kept secrets from you in the past. It’d be hypocritical of me to be too harsh on you, knowing that I’m guilty of not being truthful, too.”

He wasn’t expecting this level of self-awareness from the doll. Suddenly, he’s struck with the realization of how much she’s changed since they first met. The Poppy in the past would have tried to justify her own manipulation, insisting that it was for the greater good. Instead, she admits that it was wrong of her, and that relieves a sore spot in his chest that he didn’t realize he had.

“Guess we both have some learning to do, huh?” John offers her a soft smile, one that says I forgive you.

Poppy smiles back.

“I guess we do.”

It’s later that day when it happens.

John is back in the security room, his forehead touching the table. Tomorrow is when they’ll begin putting up the fliers advertising the pantry. In the meantime, he’s been trying to keep himself busy by reorganizing the food in the maintenance room next door. The space is starting to get full, and pretty soon they’re going to have to find a new place to store their food supply.

Just the thought alone makes him feel drained, hence why his forehead is resting against the table.

Then he hears the sound of the train arriving at the station.

He hadn’t even noticed it was gone. Not many others use the train aside from him and his friends, but clearly someone else had called it from another area, and now they’re headed this way.

Could it be…?

He shoots straight up in his chair—a little too fast, damn near fell over—and rushes to the door before yanking it open. Just as he opens the door, the train comes screeching to a halt near the platform. He watches with bated breath as the heavy metal stills, the door to the cabin opening with a groan.

A paw steps out, followed by another. Within seconds, CatNap is there.

They make eye contact.

He looks... exhausted.

His eyes are unfocused, movements less purposeful and more sluggish, as if he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately. There’s a few patches of dry blood on his fur. Horror sinks in his stomach because he went hunting after all but then a thought occurs that maybe that isn’t someone else’s blood. Most of it is centered around his head, his arms, places where he can grab himself. Understanding dawns on him followed by a new kind of horror.

He shoves it into the back of his mind for now, choosing to focus instead on the fact that CatNap is alive, he’s here.

Are you okay?

Where were you?

You came back

He swallows those words down.

“We need to talk.”

He keeps his voice carefully neutral. CatNap says nothing, only looks at him. John takes that as a sign of acceptance.

He steps aside, allowing the feline into the security room. A voice in his head yells danger danger danger as he lets one of the most frightening creatures in this facility into the room where he sleeps. He dismisses the thought, not caring for it.

CatNap approaches the doorway, his movements even slower than usual, then crouches down so that his massive body can fit through. Once inside, he settles himself into a corner near the door, his stomach lying flat against the floor. John retakes his seat in the office chair before facing the feline, elbows propped on his knees with fingers laced in front of his mouth.

The air is quiet for a long while.

John knows he has to approach this very carefully. CatNap came to him, which means in some shape or form, he’s asking for help. One wrong move could ruin all of this.

“Tell me where your head is at right now.”

It takes a moment before CatNap responds.

“I want to hurt. And I am trying not to.”

He lets that sink in, eyes briefly glancing at the patches of blood on his fur.

“When you say you want to hurt, do you mean other people, or yourself?”

“Both.”

“I see. Can you tell me why?”

“The thoughts won’t go away unless I hurt something.”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth. You won’t hurt anyone because you’re not a weapon. You are in control.”

His large head tilts ever so slightly, something like astonishment, as if no one has ever told him that before.

“I am in control…”

He repeats it, testing the words. It’s almost uncanny seeing CatNap like this. Like he’s moving in slow motion, gaze hollow and mind barely there. He’s never seen him look so defeated, not even when he was inches close to death by his savior.

John readjusts his position so that he’s sitting more comfortably.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to. I just want to understand what it is you’re going through.”

White eyes start to focus again as they shift towards John. A single nod.

“These… thoughts. Are they like voices?”

Another nod.

“How long have you had these voices in your head?”

“A long time.”

“And what kinds of things do these voices tell you?”

Almost thirty seconds pass with no response. Too complex.

“How about this: do you feel like these voices are mean to you?”

CatNap seems to give that one some thought. Eventually, he answers.

“Sometimes.”

“And when the voices or thoughts get to be too much, that’s when you start hurting.”

An affirmative hum. John leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he absorbs all this new information, mulling it over repeatedly, examining it from all angles.

“Okay. I think I’m starting to understand a little better. My next question relates to what happened in the hallway four days ago. Are you okay with talking about it?”

He’s surprised when CatNap nods in agreement, having expected him to reject his proposal, or at the very least become more anxious.

“The thing that triggered your thoughts... does it have something to do with DogDay?”

“Yes.”

“I figured. You disappeared after that incident. Tell me what made you freak out and attack him.”

“He is a heretic.”

John hums thoughtfully. Something about that answer doesn’t sit right with him. It’s not that he thinks CatNap is lying, more like he doesn’t understand the real reason himself.

“Normally you execute those who don’t follow The Prototype. Why keep DogDay alive? Why hold onto his eyes and legs?”

That makes CatNap pause. Something passes through his features, an unusual softness against a normally scary-looking face, almost like he’s daydreaming. Anticipation rattles beneath John’s skin, causing him to grip the armrest.

“He is my…”

“…Your friend?”

In the blink of an eye, CatNap snaps out of it, that softness disappearing and replaced with something sharp, angry.

“He is a traitor. He betrayed me.”

“He didn’t betray you. He cares about you.”

“Like you.”

That takes John by surprise. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. CatNap doesn’t seem to mind this, a little more focused now as his gaze becomes contemplative.

“You should have let me perish. I am not worth saving.”

It’s the first time in a while that CatNap has brought that up. Actually, John doesn’t think he’s ever brought it up since that day, so to hear it now is definitely unexpected. Even more unexpected is the calmness in his demeanor, unlike the deadly anger he faced when John first shoved him out of the way of The Prototype’s piercing claws.

Somehow, this stings worse than the anger. As if he’s simply stating a fact. Not you robbed me of my deliverance but you wasted your time.

He takes a deep breath, reigning in his own emotions in favor of focusing on this person who so badly needs to be taught self-love.

“That’s not true, and I’m gonna keep saying that until you believe it.”

He doesn’t give CatNap the opportunity to refute him before he stands up, making his way to the maintenance room. He grabs a can of chicken noodle soup—not the fanciest meal but it should be easy enough to stomach—and proceeds to heat it up in the microwave. Once done, he adds a few slices of bread on the side, then brings the meal to the feline.

CatNap accepts the meal without complaint, using surprising restraint to consume the soup as slowly as he can. Either he’s trying to maintain self-control or he lacks the energy completely. John sits down beside the feline, his back leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, by the way. About the whole threatening-to-electrocute-you thing.”

CatNap huffs, lowering the now-empty bowl of soup.

“What an idiotic reason to apologize.”

“There’s the grumpy cat I know,” he says jokingly. Then he becomes serious again. “So then... you aren’t mad?”

CatNap stares at him from the corner of his eyes.

“No.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. I’m uh, I’m glad. Just hope you don’t think I was trying to like, retraumatize you or something, because that’s definitely not what I was going for, I’d never intentionally do that, I wasn’t even really thinking about it until after the fact, then I realized, yeah, that was kinda fucked, so again really sorry, and I hope you don’t end up reliving that scenario or else I’m gonna feel real shitty—”

“Rat.”

“Right, sorry, shutting up.”

CatNap huffs again, this time more amused rather than annoyed.

“...Your concern is appreciated.”

It’s the most thankful response he’s ever gotten from CatNap, even if it was mainly just to stop John from overreacting. Either way, he’ll take it.

“I had a speech prepared, you know,” John says after a moment of comfortable silence between the two. “Was gonna tell you all about how it isn’t nice to attack people just because you disagree with them.”

“A shame I could not hear it.”

“Yeah yeah, keep being sarcastic, but you know I’m not letting this go, right? Sooner or later you’re going to have to work out whatever issue you have with DogDay. No more hurting him. Understood?”

A reluctant yet affirmative noise rumbles through his throat. Relief sinks into John’s shoulders.

“Good. And the next time you start feeling overwhelmed, or the thoughts start becoming too much… just try giving me a signal, alright? We’ll figure something out.”

“A signal.”

“Yeah, you know, like a code word or a hand signal. The latter would probably be better in case you can’t use your words. Let’s see…” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “How about… tapping your moon pendant? That way I’ll know that you’re stressed out, and maybe then I can help.”

CatNap looks down at said pendant dangling from his zipper before glancing at John again, uncertain.

“Go on, try it.”

He encourages him. After a moment, CatNap hesitantly raises a sharp claw to the pendant, an audible tap tap sounding through the air as he taps the metal.

“There you go. What do you think? Seems doable?”

“Perhaps…” White eyes shift back towards him. “I cannot guarantee that I will maintain control over myself, even with this… signal.”

John shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Feeling his legs starting to grow numb, John stands up and collects the dishes he used for the soup, bringing them to the table to wash out later. He wonders if he should make CatNap something else; surely one bowl of soup isn’t enough but he also doesn’t know how well he can stomach food right now.

Screw it, he’ll just ask.

“Hey, did you want—"

“You are not a bad instructor.”

The words catch him completely off guard. John turns back around to see CatNap observing him from the corner.

“What?”

“You told me you did not want to become a fitness instructor. Because you are not a good teacher. That is false. You are… good at explaining things.”

John could hardly believe his ears. He never thought he’d receive an actual compliment from CatNap, who was usually nothing but cold and condescending. It makes his chest feel strangely warm.

“I’m surprised you remembered that.”

It’s true, he hadn’t expected him to remember such a small detail, especially considering it was shared ages ago. CatNap hums noncommittally, his focus falling elsewhere in the room.

A soft knock sounds against the door followed by a familiar mrrow, grabbing both of their attention. John quickly recognizes it and moves to open the door.

“Hey, CB. Here for a nap?”

Cat-Bee strolls into the room, greeting him with a slow blink. As if answering his question, she heads towards John’s makeshift bed and proceeds to climb on. She barely acknowledges CatNap, who is staring at her with a look of annoyance, his mood soured now that someone else was in the room.

John pays little mind to CatNap’s moodiness, opting to sit beside Cat-Bee as she makes herself comfortable. She doesn’t visit him every day, but when she does, she usually takes a nap, seeming to prefer the security of John’s office, or maybe it’s just his presence that makes her feel safer. He reaches out to pat her head out of habit.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs.

“She likes it.”

“You realize we are not real cats.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy being petted?”

“Ridiculous.”

CatNap turns his head away, tail swishing back and forth in what almost looks like irritation. John decides not to call him out on it. Then suddenly, he remembers something DogDay told him, something curious and intriguing.

“Can you shrink?”

CatNap eyes him suspiciously.

“DogDay told me you can. So… can you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

“Oh come on, just one time?”

“Enough.”

“You’re no fun.”

Heartache is not something new to DogDay.

He felt it the first time he woke up and saw himself in the mirror. Felt it again each time he lost one of his friends. And again with each child he failed to protect. It’s become familiar to him, this crushing weight in his chest, like a parasite he just can’t seem to get rid of, always popping up when he least expects it.

Some days he feels like he deserves it. After all, he survived when most of his friends didn’t. The so-called ‘leader’ yet he couldn’t even protect the ones he cared about most. He should have never made it out of that circus tent alive, his fate practically sealed had he not been found underneath that rubble.

It doesn’t matter now. John saved him, and even though he might not deserve to be here, he owes it to him to keep living. He wants to live. Even if it means dealing with heartache. Or with the soreness of having his body thrown through the ringer. Or with the endless nightmares—god, the nightmares.

Then there’s CatNap, his worst heartache of them all.

He doesn’t know where to start when it comes to him. It all feels like a blur, his memories as unreliable as a broken clock. The images come and go like faded pictures in a photographic film. What he remembers most are the other sensations: the smells, the sounds, even the touch is more clear to him.

Many of them aren’t pleasant.

The slow drag of sharp claws, his own screams ringing through the air. The stench of rotten blood and moldy walls. Heavy breathing along with a deep voice taunting him. Those are only a few of the things he’s come to associate with his once dearest friend.

How could you do this to me? He’d wanted to scream, but he’d been so overwhelmed and so utterly hopeless that he couldn’t find it in him to shout the way he wanted to.

Now all that’s left is a hollow shell of what he used to be.

DogDay returns to the upper floors the same night he spoke with John about the incident between him and CatNap in the hallway. Sometime during the commotion, his sun pendant snapped off his zipper. It’s risky wandering up here alone, especially after what happened four days ago.

For some reason, he can’t find it in him to care. Maybe he wants to prove to himself that he isn’t afraid of CatNap anymore. That he isn’t going to let his ex-best friend have that control over him anymore. He does feel bad not telling John or his other friends that he’s up here, but then again, they have enough on their plates to worry about, and it isn’t as if DogDay is actively searching for trouble.

He’ll just grab what he’s looking for and return to Playcare. Simple.

Only it’s not simple, for as he returns to the spot where he’d been attacked, he finds his pendant nowhere in sight. What in the world? It couldn’t possibly be anywhere else. Unless he’d been mistaken and the pendant snapped out sometime after the incident…

As he stands in the dark hallway, he suddenly feels a presence behind him.

He stops in his tracks. The urge to flee is strong, but he doesn’t. He refuses.

You don’t get to control me anymore

“I know you’re there.”

He keeps his voice steady and firm as he calls out. When he turns around, he sees CatNap stepping out of the shadows.

He’s standing on all fours, something he seems to prefer doing, unlike DogDay who prefers standing on two feet. It makes him faster, says the unpleasant thought in his head. His muscles grow tense as he watches the feline standing on the other side of the hall, staring back at him with those predatory eyes of his.

That familiar ache threatens to consume him.

“Hello, CatNap.”

DogDay keeps his emotions carefully guarded. There’s no immediate response from the other side. Just a hard stare, as if the feline doesn’t know what to say, or is perhaps choosing his words carefully. This elicits a scoff from DogDay, bitter and angry.

“Nothing to say?”

“Your ability to evade death is remarkable, mutt.”

There’s disdain in CatNap’s voice as well as something mocking. He never entirely understood what he did to deserve the feline’s hostility, other than refusing to go along with The Prototype’s evil deeds. Right now, he decides he isn’t going to put up with it. He didn’t come here to have salt rubbed in his wounds.

“I can say the same to you,” DogDay fires back. “Heard you were defeated not too long ago. How’d that feel?”

A pointy ear flickers with annoyance, filling him with a smug satisfaction despite the underlying fear still lurking within him. At least if he dies here, it’ll be after he wiped that arrogant look off CatNap’s face.

“As a matter of fact, you’re looking a little worse for wear. You sure it’s a good idea to be here? Wouldn’t want The Prototype punishing you for speaking with a heretic.”

“Silence.”

The demand sends a chill through his spine, his heart rate picking up speed as CatNap takes a step closer. He ignores the urge to back away, standing his ground. You can’t control me. You can’t control me. You can’t control me.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

He tries to sound confident but it’s hard when his ex-best friend is standing right there, creeping towards him like a hunter waiting to strike.

“You never were good at hiding your true emotions.”

“What do you want with John?”

The deflection works, thankfully. CatNap pauses, his tail flickering, another telltale sign of his growing agitation.

“It is none of your concern.”

“If you’re planning on hurting him, I will stop you.”

“You cannot stop anything. You are weak.”

He hates how even now, his insults make DogDay feel so much smaller, the ache in his chest spreading. His fists clench by his sides.

“That may be true. But that won’t stop me from protecting John. I’ll protect him with my life if I have to. Anything to stop you from toying with him. I’ll fight for his life and his beliefs, even it means sacrificing myself.”

He practically feels out of breath by the time he finishes his short speech. There’s a tense silence in the air before suddenly, CatNap stands on two feet.

His blood runs cold as the feline towers over him. He wasn’t always this tall, having been the same height as DogDay once with a healthy-looking body structure. Now CatNap surpasses him in height, the ribs protruding from his thin body only making him appear less natural, more intimidating.

Intense eyes lock onto him as CatNap steps even closer, almost standing right in front of him. DogDay can feel his composure start to slip, his mind screaming at him to get away, you aren’t safe, don’t you remember what happened? You want to go through that all over again? Yet he remains frozen in place.

“You know nothing of sacrifice. You could not even accept your punishment. You were so close to redemption and you ruined it.”

That causes confusion to stir amidst the panic. He searches CatNap’s face for some sort of clarification but finds none.

“What are you on about? I was on my deathbed. It’s John who saved me.”

Surprise flashes briefly through CatNap’s expression. It doesn’t go unnoticed by DogDay. It’s almost as if CatNap hadn’t known about DogDay getting possessed by the Mini Critters before being left to die.

Probably thought I was still trapped in that cell this whole time.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” says DogDay, “but if you have any heart left, then please, don’t hurt John. Hate me all you want, but leave him out of this. Please, old friend.”

There goes whatever confidence he had. Picky always said he’s too soft for his own good, and here he is, making the same foolish mistakes.

He’s just so tired.

CatNap doesn’t say anything for a while, eyes boring down on him. It’s hard to believe those eyes once belonged to the kind, quiet person he’d first met in a padded cell, nearly shaking because he was too afraid to put DogDay asleep. The memory is foggy, but he remembers waking up to a soft tail wrapped around him, the scent of lavender making him feel calmer than he had in a long time.

His thoughts are broken as CatNap begins walking forward again. Finally, DogDay takes a step back, unable to hide his fear any longer. His chest aches so badly, and he knows, he knows his friend is still in there somewhere, but right now, all he can see is the monster who tore him apart, who dragged claws down his skin and stole his legs, who broke his soul and left him struggling to pick up the pieces.

CatNap raises a paw and DogDay flinches, shielding his eyes—DON'T TAKE THEM DON'T TAKE THEM PLEASE DON'T TAKE THEM I WANNA SEE—as he waits for the inevitable pain to come.

It doesn’t.

Hesitantly, he lowers his arms. CatNap is still standing there, holding something. Wait, is that…

My pendant?

Sure enough, the sun pendant lies clutched within his claws, shiny and unbroken. CatNap’s offering it to him. DogDay doesn’t move to take it. He can only stare, as if the thing will disappear should he look away.

CatNap must grow impatient with his lack of response. Without a word, he shoves the pendant against DogDay’s chest, snapping him out of his daze as he instinctively takes it. Then he turns and walks away, disappearing back into the shadows.

DogDay can only watch, struggling to process what the hell just happened.

Chapter Text

“This is a pitiful method of expanding your empire.”

“If you’re gonna tag along, can you at least try to be less negative?”

John tries not to feel exasperated as he walks down the halls of the upper floors, stopping occasionally to tape another flier onto the wall. He opted not to bring along his Grabpack since having the extra weight seemed more like a hassle.

The downside is that he’s more vulnerable, or at least he would be if he didn’t have a giant toy cat following him the whole way. He has to admit, having CatNap as an unintentional ‘bodyguard’ by warding off toys with his presence alone does make his job a lot easier. He just wishes said cat would stop criticizing his leadership skills.

“Do you truly expect to obtain more followers this way? By plastering a sheet of paper onto a wall?"

“You got any better ideas?”

He immediately regrets asking that the moment he sees the sinister look morphing on the feline’s face.

“Yes,” CatNap says easily. “Force them into submission. Assert your will over theirs by force.”

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing that. The goal is to encourage toys who want to help by signing up to assist with the food pantry out of their own free will. No forcing anyone into submission.”

CatNap’s eyes roll within its sockets.

“You heretics are forever spineless. It’s like watching worms squirming against dirt.”

“Beautiful poetry, Shakespeare. Now can I finish hanging these fliers in peace please?”

Another unnamed toy creeps around the corner, only to skitter away at the sight of CatNap walking around. The feline does not acknowledge the toy nor John’s request as he continues to question his leadership skills.

“Weren’t your allies supposed to be assisting you with this dull task?”

“They were, but Kissy hasn’t been feeling too well since this morning, and Poppy isn’t comfortable leaving her alone. Someone still has to keep an eye on Playcare, and since I’m the healthiest, I decided it would be best if I handled the fliers.”

He neglects to mention DogDay being the unhealthy person watching over Playcare in his absence, but the implications are there. Thankfully, CatNap doesn’t point out the obvious, and John is spared the awkwardness of having to discuss anything involving his ex-best friend. They did enough of that yesterday.

“So you were left to do the grunt work. A questionable appearance for someone who is supposed to be leading, not doing the job of a low rank follower.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I like helping wherever I can? Being a leader isn’t all about ordering people around, you know.”

“And what would you say being a leader is ‘all about?’”

“You really wanna know?”

“Enlighten me.”

John tapes another flier to the wall as he considers the question. Growing up, there were really only a few people he looked up to. His parents, sure, until he realized his respect for them stemmed mainly from the fact that they raised him, and less from the idea that he wanted to be them.

Aside from them, the only real person he can think of who was involved in his life is the manager at one of his old retail jobs. He was a people person, the kind of guy who always made others feel seen. He’d tease John for working so hard, yet he was always the one contributing the most, always offering to lend a hand or cover a shift even though he didn’t need to, and he hardly ever took credit for it.

A memory appears crystal clear in his head: John and his old manager watching the fireworks one New Year’s Day. His manager had to stay late to finish stocking the last of the shipment, and John volunteered to stay despite his manager insisting he didn’t have to. They finished right before midnight, just as the fireworks had begun setting off outside.

But instead of going home, his manager offered him a beer. John had accepted. Why? Because it was a new year, they worked hard, and drinking a cold beer with his boss while watching the fireworks sounded more pleasant than going back to his small, lonely apartment.

“You’re a good man, John,” the older man had said, with his greying hair and his earnest smile, and John had wondered why this man hadn’t been his father instead. “And some day you’re gonna find people who recognize that, people who appreciate you. When that day comes, John, I want you to do yourself a favor: don’t let go of them no matter what. Let yourself be held up for a change, same way you’ve lifted everyone else.”

John stares at the poster on the wall, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Finally, he turns to look at CatNap, whose been staring at him in silence since he proposed the question of what it means to be a leader, eyes glinting with interest.

“It’s about setting an example,” says John. “Of working hard even if it means getting your hands dirty. Being a leader means being a person that other people can depend on. Someone who inspires hope.”

“Or fear.”

He grunts begrudgingly.

“Or fear. But I’m not gonna be that kind of leader. I came here to fix my mistakes, not make things worse. It’s the least I can do, even if I am just a regular guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“How noble of you.”

“I guess.”

CatNap scrutinizes the poster on the wall, the words ‘Help Wanted’ written in bold letters. He seems to be debating something in his head before eventually reaching a conclusion.

“You are far from regular.”

“You know, there are times when I genuinely can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”

His confusion is ignored as CatNap gestures towards the poster.

“You are not worried this will attract the wrong kind of attention? Not every creature here is friendly.”

No kidding.

“It’ll be fine. Right now, I’m more focused on getting the word out, and hopefully finding others who are willing to help. The more people we can feed, the better.”

Thankfully, there’s only a few posters left in his duffel bag. He’s about to hang up another one when suddenly, a scream sounds through the air. His head whips towards the direction down the hall. It sounded close.

John and CatNap exchange glances. Without a word, John hurries towards the source of the scream, CatNap following behind.

They stop when they reach an open doorway. There’s a red arrow on the floor pointing directly inside, drawn with what looks to be fresh blood.

“What the hell…?”

John exchanges another look with CatNap, the feline looking just as lost as him. A morbid curiosity seems to grow between them. Despite the bad feeling in his gut, he can’t help but want to seek out answers.

They follow the bloody arrow into the entranceway. It leads to another arrow pointing towards the right. A pathway that someone clearly wants them to follow. The feeling in his gut intensifies, intuition telling him that something is very wrong. It feels like he’s heading straight towards a trap, but what choice does he have? Whoever that scream belonged to didn’t sound like any of his friends, but it could be someone who needs help.

They reach the final arrow at the end of the path. It leads to an unmarked door. An old storage room, maybe, though he isn’t sure. CatNap is strangely silent. Not in the sense that his quietness is unusual, which it isn’t—it’s more the reason he’s silent. As if he knows whatever is behind this door won’t be pleasant, can sense signs of despair as if it were second nature. The thought does little to comfort him; he almost wishes CatNap would go back to verbally criticizing him if only to relieve the uncertainty growing in his chest.

He drops the duffel bag before reaching out and opening the door. It’s too dark to see anything right away, but he does notice the smell—it reeks of death. Revolted, he flips the nearest light switch.

What greets him is a horrific sight.

A room of decapitated toy heads, some of which he recognizes as the toys who helped him fix the train, or a few from Playcare who he gave food to at the pantry. Lifeless eyes stare back at him as if intentionally placed that way. He forces his gaze away from them and looks at the walls.

It’s filled with bloody words written all over. They all say the same thing.

[THIS IS YOUR FAULT JOHN]

The sight of his name makes his stomach drop. His eyes fall to the photos lining the center of the wall. They’re his friends: Poppy, Kissy, DogDay, and even the red telephone he uses to communicate with Ollie all lined up together. Their eyes are scratched out, the telephone marked simply with an X. Right above the photos are two words, the largest out of all the other ones written on the wall.

[THEY’RE NEXT]

Reality suddenly feels fake. His eyes dart from the corpses to the photos to the letters on the wall. Too much red. It makes him feel nauseated, like what he’s looking at shouldn’t be there, it’s unnatural. Dozens of lifeless eyes are watching him. Judging.

He did this. His efforts, his promises, his actions—it’s all led to this. A room full of people whose lives were snatched away for no other reason than to deliver a message.

A particular head catches his eye. Yellow and black with antennas. A Cat-Bee.

Her ear is chipped.

She’s missing an eye.

He falls to his knees, the world spinning around him. This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real.

“John?”

He knows CatNap is speaking but he can’t hear him. It’s too much, he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe. He needs to get out, he’s gonna die if he doesn’t. Is any of this even real? There’s too much red and the air smells foul and he can’t seem to feel the floor beneath his fingertips, only numbness.

Cat-Bee is dead.

Cat-Bee is dead and it’s his fault.

The tightness in his chest becomes unbearable, a mixture of his heart shattering and lack of oxygen being delivered to his lungs.

Red smoke fills the room—too much red, too much red, too much red—and suddenly his body feels incredibly heavy. He lowers himself to the floor, cheek pressing against cold tile. His vision fades right as purple paws enter his vision.

Everything goes dark.

John wakes up with a solid weight on his chest.

He opens his eyes.

A familiar face stares down at him, yellow with black stripes, long antennas, pointy ears. Cat-Bee. She’s alive, head fully attached to her body. She’s here. But how?

Cat-Bee mews in concern, gazing at him with her single left eye.

That’s right. It’s her right eye that’s missing. The other Cat-Bee was missing a left eye. A different person. A stranger.

Not his CB.

He sits up on what he now recognizes is his mattress, then immediately pulls Cat-Bee into a tight hug, cradling her against his chest.

“Thank god,” John whispers, rocking back and forth as his heart rearranges itself back together. “Oh thank god.”

Cat-Bee mews again, sounding even more concerned. Once John has calmed down, he loosens his hold with a mumbled apology. That’s when he notices two voices speaking to each other right outside of the security office. He recognizes them as Poppy and DogDay, though he can’t make out what they’re saying.

Still holding Cat-Bee, John stands up and opens the door. Poppy and DogDay both pause their conversation, simultaneously turning to look at him.

“You’re awake.” Poppy tries to offer a casual smile, but the worry in her eyes betray her. “How are you feeling?”

DogDay’s concern is more obvious than Poppy’s, his eyes flitting across John like he’s worried he’ll pass out at any given moment. Do I look that bad? John awkwardly scratches his cheek.

“I’m okay, I think.” A realization occurs to him then. “Where’s CatNap?”

Poppy frowns, confused.

“CatNap? We’re not sure where he is. DogDay and I just came to check on you not too long ago, then we noticed you were out cold. You don’t normally sleep this early in the day, so we figured you must have been really tired and decided to leave you be.”

“How long was I out?”

“We found you here about five hours after you left to hang up fliers, and that was almost thirty minutes ago, so... somewhere between that time frame?”

Five hours since he left to hang up fliers. It had barely been an hour before he passed out. That means he’s been out for at least four hours. At least he thinks that’s how it went down—it all gets kind of blurry once he starts thinking about the death room.

The last thing he remembers is being surrounded by red smoke. CatNap knocked him out, and if that’s the case, he must have also brought John back to the security room.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Angel?” DogDay’s concerned voice interrupts his thoughts. “You don’t look so good.”

John meets both their gazes, a pit forming in his stomach. No sense hiding it, though he dreads having to reveal to his friends the horrific scene he saw in that room, including the threat aimed towards their lives.

“Something happened,” John explains. “I was with CatNap when we both heard a scream. When we went to check it out, there was this arrow on the ground. We followed it. Eventually, it led to this unmarked room, and we found...”

Bodyless heads and scratched out photos pops into his mind. He takes a shuddering breath.

“There were corpses. Fresh ones. I didn’t recognize all of them, but some were toys that I had direct contact with. It’s obvious they were targeted because of that. There was also a message on the wall, saying it’s my fault, and that they’re coming for you guys next.”

“The Prototype.” Poppy’s expression is grim, all traces of casualness evaporated. “He’s the only one who would do something so twisted. This is him retaliating after our success with the food pantry. He’s trying to deter us from making progress, to scare us into backing down. It’s what he does.”

The weight of her words sinks heavily into the three of them. It’s no surprise The Prototype uses extreme tactics like this to get his way, preying on people’s fears in hopes of bending them to his will.

Force them into submission. Assert your will over theirs by force.

It’s what CatNap had told him in the hallway, the same ideology he likely learned from The Prototype. Like hell he’s letting that tyrant get away with it. But the more he resists, the more he’s putting other people’s lives in danger. His friends may have signed up for this, sure, but the other toys, the ones who aren’t hostile and are simply trying to survive, what about them?

DogDay is the first to break the heavy silence, his voice sounding oddly serious.

“You said CatNap was with you, when you found that room.”

“He was, yeah,” John replies.

“And you weren’t awake just now.”

“...Yeah?”

“Did he...” A flicker of uncertainty passes through DogDay’s eyes, then his expression becomes somber. “Did he put you to sleep?”

Understanding dawns on him, his stomach dropping. He didn’t realize how bad it sounded until DogDay pointed it out, his expression a mix of sorrow and empathy.

“It’s not like that!” John quickly clarifies. “I was panicking, and CatNap did what he could to help. He was helping me.”

Surprises passes through DogDay and Poppy’s features. They exchange glances.

“Well that’s… shocking,” says DogDay.

“Are you sure what you saw in that room had nothing to do with CatNap?” Poppy questions, suspicious.

John shakes his head.

“He was with me the whole time. Whoever did that had just finished setting it up, and that’s when we heard someone screaming.”

Poppy hums, but otherwise says nothing. There’s a wordless exchange between the three of them, feelings unspoken yet not misunderstood. They think about the lost lives of their friends, ruthlessly killed by The Prototype’s cruel hands. They consider the looming threat against their own lives, the possibility of failing, of having everything they’ve worked towards come crumbling down.

It’s a dangerous game they’re playing.

John refuses to lose.

Poppy seems to be thinking the same thing, expression hardening into something intense, determined.

“We need to start building the medical center,” Poppy declares.

“Already?” John studies her, trying to figure out what she’s thinking. “I thought we were gonna hold off on that for now.”

“We were. But after this stunt The Prototype pulled, I’m thinking we need to step up our game. He wants to halt our progress or at the very least delay it. What I’m suggesting is that we do the opposite: we push harder. Prove to him and all his followers that we aren’t afraid to fight back.”

Her speech is effective. DogDay’s back straightens, resolve settling in his gaze.

“I’ve lost enough friends in the past ten years,” says DogDay. “I refuse to stand by and lose more of them. Whether we fight or submit, The Prototype will continue to destroy lives. So we may as well fight.”

John can feel hope rising within him, the words of his friends fueling his determination. Poppy’s strategy is bold, challenging, and honestly, he’s all for it. Fuck The Prototype. He thinks he can guilt John by murdering his friends, as if he hasn’t been doing that already, only difference is he decided to make a show of it.

Jokes on him. All this proves is that they absolutely do need to keep fighting. He ignores the small, fearful voice in the back of his mind that tells him this is a bad idea, that they should slow down, lay low for a bit and avoid The Prototype’s radar.

There’s no slowing down. It’s now or never.

“Let’s do it,” John says with finality.

Tomorrow will be the day John infiltrates the lab. But tonight, he plans.

Papers are scattered across the table, including a list of materials they’ll need for the medical center and a map of the laboratory Poppy somehow managed to swipe. His equipment has already been prepared and set aside: The Grabpack, his flashlight, his telephone, and a duffel bag. It’ll be a lot to carry, but if he’s sneaky enough then he won’t have to worry about running away from an enemy with the extra weight attached.

And if he does get caught, well—he has the Green Hand and the Orange Hand, both somewhat useful weapons for defending himself, depending on how durable the enemy is. If that doesn’t work, then he’ll just have to drop what he’s carrying and escape the lab empty-handed. Worst case scenario, he dies before he can escape.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel as anxious about that as he thinks he should. Perhaps he’s so fed up that his frustration outweighs his fear, or maybe he’s just so used to his life being in danger that it hardly bothers him anymore. That’s probably not good.

The telephone rings, interrupting his thoughts. He picks it up.

“Hey, Ollie.”

“Hey hey, John!” Ollie greets. “Long time no see! Or should I say long time no hear?”

John chuckles at that, leaning back in his chair as he takes a break from planning.

“Yeah, last time we spoke was when you told me the Toy House was on fire, and before that was when we found DogDay. Seems we hardly get to speak these days unless something crazy is going on.”

“Tell me about it,” says Ollie. “By the way, I heard about what happened this morning. That must have been really scary, finding that room full of dead bodies, plus those creepy messages on the wall? Just the thought makes my tummy hurt.”

John recalls the way his stomach dropped when he entered that room. That was before his mind began to float away, making the world feel unreal. It isn’t the first time it’s happened. He has a feeling it won’t be the last.

His fingers tighten against the telephone.

“Yeah… it was pretty scary.”

“What are you going to do now? It seems like The Prototype is starting to get real serious, and I don’t want to see you get hurt…”

“Don’t worry about me,” John reassures. “I’ll be fine. Tomorrow I’ll be taking the elevator down to the lab. I’ve already gone over it with Poppy, and she thinks it’s a good idea too.”

“You’re going into the lab? That’s pretty risky, John. Don’t you know that’s where The Prototype’s main body resides?”

“I know.”

“Are you going to confront him?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m going to look for medical supplies—we’ll need them if we’re going to open up the medical center, that way we can begin helping toys recover properly.”

“Oh.” There’s disappointment in Ollie’s voice. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea, too.”

“Do you want me to confront The Prototype?”

“I mean, since you’re already going to be down there...”

“And here I thought you were concerned about my safety.”

“Jooohn,” Ollie whines, and John can’t help the amusement tugging at his lips. It’s hard to resist teasing Ollie when he sounds so much like a pouting child. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m only suggesting it because I know you’re capable. Look at how many bad guys you’ve defeated so far.”

“I’m just messing with you, Ollie,” John chuckles. “Trust me, I want The Prototype to go away just as much as you do. But these people here in the factory need help, and right now, that’s more important than duking it out with The Prototype.”

“Alright John, if you say so.”

A moment of silence falls over them, the security monitors humming in the background. Sitting here now, red telephone in hand, John can’t help but appreciate Ollie’s presence throughout this whole ordeal.

It was his voice that first guided him through the dark and dangerous wasteland that was Playcare. It made John feel a little less alone, even though Ollie hadn’t been there physically. He has yet to see him in person, doesn’t even have a face to attach to him, other than a young boy.

John faces the monitors, the lights in Playcare slowly dimming as daytime transitions to nighttime.

“Hey um... I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you. You know, for guiding me through Playcare, plus everything else you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Ollie says, his voice sounding bashful.

“Like hell. I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t helped me navigate through that place.”

“Aww, shucks. What are friends for?”

There’s a pause as John considers his next words.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Are you… you know… human?”

Another pause. Then Ollie giggles.

“Of course not, silly! I’d be dead by now if that were the case. Human beings don’t make it too long down here, no offense.”

John coughs, feeling horribly flustered all of a sudden.

“Right. Yeah, I just—your voice, it’s—I thought—”

“Oh, shoot.” Ollie’s voice is apologetic. “I’m sorry, John, I should have told you from the very beginning that I’m a toy. It totally slipped my mind. I guess I just assumed you knew.”

“It’s uh, it’s fine. But you are… still a child?”

“Hmm, I guess you could say that. I was created a lot more recently than the other toys. Don’t underestimate me, though! I might be little, but I’m a lot smarter than the others!”

John chuckles. He forgets how blunt Ollie can be, though he can’t help but find it endearing.

“Can’t argue with that. And hey, if you ever do decide to come out of your hiding spot, let me know. It would be really nice to meet you face-to-face.”

“Ah, geez, I don’t know. I’m just so nervous, especially with all those bad guys still out there. It may take me a little while to work up the courage…”

“I get it—no pressure. Just know that we’re all here for you, okay?”

“Thanks, John. That really means a lot.”

“No problem, kiddo. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, John! Don’t let the Huggy Wuggies bite!”

“Haha.”

CatNap thinks.

He thinks and he thinks and he thinks.

It’s a difficult feat, but somehow he manages to not break down this time. To not crumble like he did so pathetically the last several days. It’s been a while since he spiraled that badly, though it’s not surprising.

DogDay’s presence had been… unexpected.

He suspected John had been hiding something for a while, but hadn’t known what it was exactly until he smelled that familiar scent pass through the halls. Vanilla. And he knew, oh he knew that heretic had escaped after all.

He admits, he may have overreacted. The sight of DogDay and John together lit a fire inside CatNap that spread so quickly that all he could think about was the burn. It was irrational. If God were here, he’d be disappointed with such a sloppy display.

But God isn’t here.

So instead of punishing himself, he indulges. Like an absolute glutton, he chases after John’s affirmations, his steady gaze, his simple words that somehow make everything seem crystal clear. He hadn’t known what to expect when he came to John yesterday—all he knew is that the emptiness inside was becoming too big to handle, and he needed relief, and since God wasn’t here anymore, maybe John could help fill that space instead.

He'd been right. And like the glutton he is, he still wants more.

Approaching DogDay that same night had also been indulgence, but in a different sense. CatNap found the sun pendant shortly after he returned to the upper floors. He knew DogDay would come looking for it; CatNap also knew he’d be alone. The canine is horribly predictable even after being outsmarted many times.

CatNap would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about taking advantage of DogDay’s idiocy at that moment.

But he held back. He made an agreement with John that he wouldn’t so much as leave a scratch on DogDay. As much as it irks him to relinquish control over that traitor, it’s a price he’s willing to pay in exchange for John’s continued involvement in CatNap’s day-to-day routine.

That’s the only reason he’s chosen to behave. It has nothing to do with the way DogDay stood his ground despite the danger standing in front of him. It has nothing to do with the sound of his voice, desperate and defeated as he pled for John’s safety.

It has nothing to do with the way DogDay looked at him—fear, sorrow, anger, regret, and yet despite all of this, not an ounce of hatred.

CatNap never wanted DogDay to die. He never hated him either, despite what the canine thinks. It hurt him when DogDay chose to defy God instead of embracing him, but even then, CatNap tried to save him. He gave him a chance at atonement, while others were immediately slain. DogDay would suffer, but in doing so he’d be sanctified, and The Prototype would allow him to live.

Except DogDay almost died. CatNap didn’t know.

It was John who saved him.

CatNap’s been thinking a lot lately, and now he’s finally reached a decision.

In the middle of the night, CatNap sneaks into Playcare. As he enters The Playhouse, he hears tiny footsteps crawling out from plastic tubes and large holes in the walls. It’s been a while since he’s seen the Mini Critters, what with him being… preoccupied lately.

As usual, the plushies light up when they see CatNap, equal parts nervous yet eager to please. CatNap stares down at them, indifferent. A part of him wants to snatch them up and devour them each, teach them a lesson for playing too roughly with DogDay and nearly killing his prisoner in the process.

Another part of him realizes it isn’t worth the effort—they’re too brainless to comprehend much beyond eat, play, and obey. Besides, he still has his uses for them, which brings him to his initial reason for coming here.

“Listen closely.” CatNap addresses the crowd of Mini Critters, who gaze up at him curiously. “From now on, you will be following John wherever he goes. Report anything suspicious back to me. He must remain alive. Anyone who fails to obey this order will be culled.”

Despite their stupidity, the weight of CatNap’s words aren’t lost on the Mini Critters. They know what they’re being asked to do—to protect John means they’d be directly disobeying The Prototype. It’s a shocking order to receive from the priest himself, but the threat of being killed is too frightening for them to ignore, and at the end of the day, they belong to CatNap first and foremost.

An eruption of cheers and giggles sounds through the air, excitement spreading like wildfire through the plushies. Whether they’re eager to please their boss, or they’re thrilled at the opportunity for mischief by rebelling against their greater God, CatNap isn’t sure. What he is sure of is that he’ll likely be punished by The Prototype, for being gluttonous and chasing after something he doesn’t deserve, and when that day comes, he’ll accept his punishment.

Right now, he’s made his decision.

He’ll protect John.

Even if it means going against God himself.

Chapter Text

Coming down here was a mistake.

Nothing could have prepared John for this, not the map, not the duffel bag, nothing. At least on the upper floors there was some attempt at covering up the evil beneath a veil of innocence. It was easier to pretend everything was fine with sunshine and rainbows painted on the walls, with motivational posters and ball pits and twisty tube slides. There was effort put into maintaining the façade, and while it was deceptive—and really that’s an understatement, the whole thing is revolting—it had become something familiar to John.

That façade is nonexistent down here.

Instead of playrooms and colorful décor, there’s prison cells and mountains of toy corpses stacked on top of each other. He vomits when he finds the decaying torso holding the key he needs to progress. There’s lab tables with abandoned experiments and documents detailing the horrific procedures that were conducted on them. He turns a corner and finds a human body strung up on the wall as if it were a religious sacrifice. Turns another corner and finds two Nightmare Critters feeding on one of their own. He shoots a flare at them. Then he vomits. Again.

It’s madness. No, not madness. Madness is disorganized. This place is Hell with two malevolent beings ruling over it, controlling everyone like puppets on strings. There’s The Prototype, a creature John has yet to interact with, and…

The Doctor.

It alarmed him the first time he saw the eyeball appear on the monitor, followed shortly by the sound of his voice, slow and articulate in a way that made him feel insignificant. It didn’t take long for John to figure out the guy was a Grade A asshole. The Doctor had tormented him, forcing John to fend off his minions as they pounced and bit and clawed at him. He tried suffocating by trapping him in a room full of red smoke, then to top of it, he unleashed his loyal pet Yarnaby to hunt and kill him.

He thought he’d grown used to these dangers. Boy, was he wrong.

Now having just barely escaped Yarnaby, John is left facing yet another threat, this one in the form of a Bigger Boy version of Pianosaurus. He watches with dread as the dinosaur stops eating and raises his head, sensing fresh prey. Small black eyes lock onto John, his keyboard mouth lighting up with excitement.

John’s instincts scream at him to run, to activate the Grabpack Hands and gain distance. But for some reason, he doesn’t move. It’s as if the world has become faraway.

Suddenly, Pianosaurus starts charging towards him, and all John can do is watch as the creature’s heavy footsteps grow nearer, his mind blank.

What are you doing? Move move move do something!

Four stretchy arms shoot out from the shadows. John’s brain barely registers what’s going on as he watches those same arms dragging Pianosaurus backwards.

By the time John becomes aware of himself, Pianosaurus’ body parts are laying scattered on the floor.

“Now that hit the spot! I haven’t eaten in weeks!”

John’s stomach sinks. He watches with uncertainty as a blob—toy? man?—steps into the spotlight.

He’s clay.

Obviously, says the helpful voice in his head. He recognizes the clay man as the same person who helped him get past Yarnaby, though he only saw bits of him before. Now facing him fully, he’s met with a round figure, stretchy limbs, and perhaps the most expressive face he has ever seen amongst all the living toys. There’s no plastic, no metal. It’s like something straight out of a child’s imagination.

In three strides, Clay Man is suddenly right in front of John, causing him to jump while instinctively aiming his Grab Pack.

“Hiya there, pal! Don’t worry, I won’t eat you.”

Clay Man laughs at his own morbid joke, hands on his belly in a way that almost reminds him of jolly old Santa Clause. Except murderous.

John stares, bewildered and quite frankly, terrified. After all, he just watched this person annihilate a Bigger Body toy in less than twenty seconds before devouring him. He also saved John’s life. He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t an ally, right?

“H-hi?” John tries, unsure if he should let his guard down. To John’s surprise, Clay Man politely tips his bowler hat.

“I’m Doey. So you’re the infamous John Walker I’ve heard so much about. I must say, I’m a fan of your work. Big fan.”

Doey is his name. Ah. Dough-ey. Dough. Doughman. Man of dough. He gets it. Sounds better than Clay Man, that’s for sure.

I’m losing my damn mind

“Ah—uh—thanks?” That wasn’t very articulate. He should try again. He opens his mouth to ask what Doey means by being a fan of his work when without warning, Doey grabs him by the arms and lifts him onto his feet effortlessly. John absolutely does not choke by that action.

“I’ve been dying to meet you,” Doey says, cheerful and friendly, a stark contrast to the brutality John witnessed earlier. “Ever since I heard about this whole food pantry business. I can hardly believe it’s real, even thought about going up into Playcare myself just to see it.”

John’s anxiety subsides at the mention of the food pantry, a mixture of surprise and hopefulness taking its place.

“Wait, really?”

“Really really. But if I left, I’d be leaving all my friends down here vulnerable. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, this isn’t the safest place to navigate. There’s traps everywhere, and with The Doctor’s pets crawling around, it’s simply too dangerous for us to reach the surface as a group.”

Doey’s tone grows more serious as he mentions the dangers lurking through the underground, his joyful smile morphing into an unsettling frown. The sudden shift is enough to make John feel uneasy, but he brushes it aside for now, choosing instead to focus on the first part of Doey’s response.

“There are others?”

“Did Poppy not tell you? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. She disappeared for ages and has been back for God knows how long, yet hasn’t bothered to check up on any of us down here in Safe Haven. Only reason I know she’s still alive is thanks to word on the street.”

Doey shakes his head, frustrated. John can’t blame him; it’s safe to say he’s familiar with Poppy’s not-so-great communication skills. She’s gotten better recently, but if what Doey’s saying is true, then clearly there’s still room for improvement. John heaves a tired sigh, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” A thought strikes him then. “Wait, so if you know about the food pantry, but haven’t been able to reach Playcare, does that mean you and your friends haven’t been eating?”

He already knows the answer, but still, he waits for the confirmation. Doey’s expression turns solemn as he responds.

“No, we haven’t.”

John hums thoughtfully, brain kicking into gear. It’ll be difficult to consistently bring food from Playcare to the lower levels of the factory, but not impossible. Their biggest issue would be avoiding The Doctor’s watchful eyes, as he’ll no doubt try to stop him, and of course he’ll have to figure out some kind of schedule for these deliveries. Having conjured up a very basic, barely-thought-out plan, he makes a decision.

“I’ll bring some food down after I gather the medical supplies.”

Doey’s eyes widen with surprise.

“You will?”

John nods.

“Since you aren’t able to get to Playcare safely, I’ll bring it to you instead, that way neither you nor your friends will be at risk. I don’t know how many of you there are down here, but I can carry at least one duffel bag’s worth of food. That should help for at least a day or two while we figure out a long term solution…”

Truth be told, John isn’t eager about revisiting this place, but what choice does he have? He can’t just let them starve. The ideal scenario would be moving Doey and his friends up into Playcare, but as Doey stated, it isn’t safe navigating this place as a group, as they’ll no doubt be ambushed the moment they leave their hideout. It’s a frustrating dilemma. He’ll have to bring it up during his next meeting with Poppy and the others, see if they can formulate some kind of strategy to transfer the toys from the underground into Playcare without suffering any losses.

Doey is strangely quiet, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he speaks, low and thoughtful.

“You really are… different.”

“Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”

A smile grows on Doey’s face, softer than the one he wore previously.

“Good way. You’re what I hoped you’d be.”

John isn’t entirely sure what to make of that. Either way, he’s relieved to have passed whatever unspoken test he’d been given. Something tells him he does not want to get on the dough man’s bad side.

Doey claps his hands together once, and suddenly he’s back to being bright and cheerful.

“Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to chit-chat. You mentioned something about medical supplies, right?

“Oh, right—the others and I are forming a medical center in Playcare. We were hoping to find some supplies down here.”

“Say no more! The Safe Haven’s got some extra supplies you can use. We even have our own medic! Consider it a trade: our medicine for your food.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to—”

“Now now, I won’t take no for an answer. Now follow me!”

Doey’s stubby feet begin to walk off while his head stays in place, a goofy grin plastered on his face as his neck stretches to an abnormal length. It’s so absurd and random that John almost laughs. Almost. This situation is far from humorous, with toys starving while others are killed left and right. Now isn’t the time to be goofing around.

John pretends he isn’t smiling as he follows Doey out of the room.

The Safe Haven turns out to be surprisingly organized. He listens to Doey’s explanation about how he and his friends, aka The Resistance, have taken refuge here. Their security defenses prevent hostile toys from invading their hideout, though the generator they’ve been using to power it has been steadily degrading, an issue Doey stresses about daily according to him.

As John is given a quick tour, he passes by several smaller toys, all watching him with varying levels of curiosity, wonder, and apprehension. He spots a Mini Hoppy Hopscotch and Bubba Bubbaphant whispering—what the hell, those little ankle biters can talk?—to each other, and while he only catches snippets of their conversation, he gets the sense they’re skeptical of him.

Afterwards, he’s brought to the infirmary where he meets The Medic, a calm and straightforward practitioner who offers to patch up his injuries. They then proceed to fill his duffel bag with medical supplies and only then does John finally decide to take a breather.

He makes himself comfortable in one of the tents while Doey sits across from him. The dough man appears to be in a relatively good mood, so John attempts to strike up a conversation, and hopefully gain more information in the process.

“So you’ve all been hiding down here this whole time?”

“Sure have! There used to be a lot more safe havens scattered across the factory. But well, our numbers have dwindled over time. Now we’re down to just the one.”

“Must be challenging running this place for so long.”

“Someone has to. Though sometimes I feel, what’s the word… underqualified.”

“You and me both, buddy.”

The longer they converse, the more he realizes that he quite likes Doey’s personality. He’s nice once you get past the whole cannibalism thing, though Doey does mention that he only ever devours the hostile toys who are no longer self-aware. John isn’t in any place to judge the man for doing what he needs to survive, but it does alleviate some of the apprehension knowing there are some lines Doey refuses to cross. What that says about John’s morals, he isn’t sure. All he knows is that he’s seen enough things capable of turning people insane, and he can respect someone for setting boundaries in an effort to maintain their own humanity.

The conversation lulls, the other toys resuming their activities once the excitement of John’s presence dies down. He takes a moment to admire the drawings on the wall, the strings of lights and patterned fabrics hanging overhead. It’s a comforting space, a ray of hope in an otherwise dark and soulless place. He can see why Doey is so protective of it; this place is the closest thing resembling a true home in this entire factory.

“Hey, uh, I never thanked you for what you did back there,” John eventually says. Doey throws him a look of confusion.

“What’s that?”

“The thing with Pianosaurus. You saved my life.”

Remembrance flickers through Doey’s expression, then he laughs. 

“Oho, that’s right! You were a sitting duck out there. I’ve heard the whole don’t move and it won’t see you tactic against dinosaurs, but who knew you’d be brave enough to try it?”

John winces, heat rising to his face as he remembers that moment of mental dissociation. It was a screw up, something he can’t afford. Next time there might not be an incredibly strong ally around to save him.

“I don’t normally freeze up like that,” says John, who for some reason feels the need to defend himself. “Guess I lost focus there for a moment.”

Doey’s arm stretches towards John before giving him a good-natured pat on the shoulder.

“I’m just teasing. We all have our moments of weakness. Yours just happened to come at a very inconvenient time.”

John relaxes before nodding appreciatively. Doey’s arm retracts, his expression becoming serious once more.

“I understand how it feels, you know. Keeping a clear head in stressful situations... it isn’t always easy. Pain is scary. And there are a lot of things in this place that hurt me. I try very hard not to let my emotions get the better of me, but sometimes I feel like I have no control over myself. After what those workers did to me…”

A haunted look appears on Doey’s face as he recalls what John can only assume are unpleasant memories. His chest aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Even though you worked here, you weren’t one of the bad ones… were you?”

There’s an abrupt shift in Doey’s demeanor, his voice dropping as he eyes John suspiciously. His muscles grow tense, eyes averting once it becomes too difficult to maintain eye contact.

“I was just a delivery guy. Playtime took measures to keep us low-rank workers from being involved in their secrets.”

He doesn’t mention how he found out about their secrets anyway, what they were really doing to the children and workers who mysteriously disappeared. He doesn’t mention his own cowardly decision to leave this place behind instead of alerting the authorities to what was really going on behind the scenes. He thinks Doey might not look at him the same way should he find out John had abandoned them as they suffered endlessly.

Doey heaves a sigh of relief as he instantly reverts back to his friendly self, oblivious to John’s inner turmoil.

“That’s a relief! And while we’re on the subject of showing gratitude, I wanted to thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“For giving us a chance.”

Doey takes off his hat and wrings it between his hands. He appears to be collecting his thoughts.

“I know everyone thinks we’re abominations, but we aren’t just monsters. We’re people. When I heard what you were doing up above, I felt hope. You’re creating something. Fixing things. I don’t think you know how much that means to me—to all of us. I feel lost more often than not, but you make things... less scary.”

John sits up straighter as he listens to Doey. He’s struck with the foreign feeling of being trusted by a younger, inexperienced person who’s decided in his mind that he’s safe, that John is someone worthy of opening up to. It’s vulnerable, tender. It feels special.

Doey takes a deep breath, as if having exhausted the confidence he had built up.

“A-anyway, I just really appreciate what you’re doing. Not many people would be so open-minded.”

Out of all the living toys he’s met, Doey is by far the most expressive. Not just physically, but in the way he speaks, how he shares his feelings so openly while trying to comprehend this dark and complicated reality. There’s something innocent in that, and John wants to cherish it, to rub his back and let him know that everything will be okay.

He resists the urge, leveling him with a steady gaze as he speaks in what he hopes is a sincere, affirming voice.

“None of you deserved what this company did to you. I just want to make things right. I want you all to live your lives as fulfilling as possible. You’re worth it.” He pauses, considering. His voice softens. “And I’m honored that me being here makes things less scary for you. I’m just sorry you had to wait so long for someone to reach you. I’ll do my best not to go anywhere. I promise.”

And he means that. If he’s ever been certain of anything, it’s that he’s sticking around so long as he’s still breathing. He couldn’t go back to the life he had before even if he wanted to; deep down he knows he’d just come running back to Playtime Factory.

Doey’s eyes grow wide. For a moment, he almost looks shy, turning away as he squeezes his hat. John waits patiently for him to process. Eventually, Doey responds.

“I’ll be honest, when I first heard about you, I didn’t know whether you could be trusted. I thought for sure you’d be just as vengeful towards The Prototype as Poppy, or worse, like the bad workers who hurt us. But I can tell that’s not the case. Now there’s only one thing left that concerns me.”

“What is it?”

“CatNap.”

It’s like a baseball crashing through a window. He’d been so caught up in the chaos of the underground that he nearly forgot the controversy that is his relationship with CatNap, former guardian slash terrorizer of Playcare.

“Ah,” is John’s intelligent response.

“I was shocked when I heard that he's behaving now,” Doey continues. “I just can’t fathom how you managed to control him, what with how loyal he is to The Prototype.”

“I don’t know if control is the most accurate word…”

John shifts his weight uncomfortably. This definitely wasn’t the topic of conversation he’d been anticipating, though in hindsight, he should have expected this. May as well get it over and done with.

“From what I’ve heard, he’s abandoned Playcare, the red smoke is gone, and he’s no longer hunting. You’re telling me that’s not your doing?”

“Those are all decisions he’s made. He’s been trying to change, I think. Even if he might not realize it yet.”

“I see. And you trust him?”

“He saved my life twice.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

John sighs, stressed fingers raking through his hair.

“I trust him about as much as he trusts himself, which isn’t a lot. He just—he has a lot going on in his head. A part of him is still attached to The Prototype. It would be naïve of me to assume he’ll do the right thing in the state he’s in now.”

Doey goes silent at that. John wishes he knew what he was thinking, but his expression is unreadable. After a few seconds, Doey hums, seeming to deem his answer acceptable.

“Fair enough.”

The conversation shifts to important matters. Doey tells him about The Orphans, a subject Poppy vaguely mentioned before. They’re apparently still alive and are being kept in some kind of cryogenic state somewhere in the lab. John’s immediate thought is to rescue them, but in order to gain access to the lab, he’d have to obtain something called an Omni-Hand which is being held by The Doctor. After that, he’d be confronting The Prototype.

It would be the most dangerous, high-risk mission he’s been tasked with yet. For that reason, he can’t do it, not yet. As much as he loathes the idea of leaving those children vulnerable, they just aren’t prepared for a rescue mission of that caliber. Sure, he can try to defeat The Doctor then rush into the lab guns blazing, but in the process, he might end up doing more harm than good, not only to his friends but to the orphans themselves.

One problem at a time. Feed the starving, restore the factory, rescue the children.

John grabs his duffel bag as he prepares to leave. Before he reaches the doorway, he hears Doey call out to him one last time.

“Hey, John?”

He looks over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

It looks like Doey wants to say something but hesitates. Maybe he’s worried John won’t return once he leaves Safe Haven. He’s likely lost a lot of friends to this place already. Instead of expressing these concerns, Doey offers him a smile, tipping his hat in farewell.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay pal?”

It’s a small gesture, but it warms his heart all the same. John returns the smile.

“Of course. See you soon, Doey.”

The trip back to the elevator is nerve-wracking, to say the least. Almost everywhere is infested with hostile toys and while he manages to avoid most of them, the stress is starting to eat away at him, causing him to make clumsy mistakes he otherwise wouldn’t. It doesn’t help that he’s hauling a bag full of supplies with him. If it weren’t for his history with manual labor, plus his investment in fitness during his younger days, then he doubts he’d be able to carry even this much with what little energy he has left.

Makes him question if he’ll have the strength left to return with food, but the idea of taking a break while The Resistance is starving only fuels his guilt and frustration. He may just cave in and enlist the help of his friends after all, as much as he dislikes the idea of risking their lives. For now though, he tries to focus on making sure his own life remains intact, holding his breath as he tiptoes around a small group of rabid toys fighting over a fresh corpse.

He's just reached what he thinks might be a familiar hallway when a staticky voice cuts through the air.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Dread sinks in his stomach. A monitor on the right side of the room flickers to life and he sees it—that single omniscient eye that he’s grown to dislike appears on the screen.

Doctor Sawyer.

“You think you can just come and go as you please?” There’s amusement laced between The Doctor’s words, a trait John is becoming more accustomed to each time the man speaks to him. He tightens his grip on the strap of his duffel bag, refusing to look back at the monitor as he presses onward.

“Watch me.”

“You’re quite cocky for an insect. You do realize how fragile you are, don’t you? That shoddy little body of yours can only withstand so much.”

He tries to ignore The Doctor’s words as he exits the hallway. Still, he can feel the man’s gaze burning into his back, not leaving him even as he enters a new room. It isn’t long before the voice reappears through the speakers.

“What exactly is the end game here? Feeding your little friends, scavenging for supplies. You aren’t actually trying to build a complex society within these walls, are you?”

John hates the way his stomach turns as The Doctor continues to dissect him, like an insect being observed underneath a microscope. He won’t pretend to be unintimidated. After all, this is the main person responsible for the human experiments, the same man who caused thousands of people to suffer needlessly. Even after being subjected to his own treatment, Doctor Sawyer continues to kill, torture, and manipulate those around him, all while laughing in the face of the ones struggling to survive.

That level of cruelty is incomprehensible to John.

But no matter how intelligent The Doctor is, John isn’t going to back down easily. He’s come too far to give up now.

“And so what if I am?” John attempts to sound more confident than he feels. A warped laugh erupts from the speakers.

“That is rich! A population filled with toy freaks, living amongst themselves in harmony, led by an unremarkable ex-employee of the company with no experience in leadership or governing. How disgustingly optimistic.”

His jaw clenches. The Doctor continues, unperturbed.

“And to think, you came all this way just so you can play the benevolent hero, whose only desire is to bring peace to all the suffering individuals left behind in a place long forgotten. Your previous life must have been quite pathetic, for you to be that desperate for admiration.”

“Are you done?”

John can feel his patience thinning. The Doctor chuckles, seemingly entertained by his frustration. He tries not to let it get to him as he continues forth, praying that by the time he reaches the elevator, he’ll have not suffered an aneurysm.

“This goal of yours is nothing but a childish fantasy. Even if you do manage to build some form of civilization here, what next? You and your friends all live happily ever after? Would you be content with that; spending the rest of your days here in the factory? What about the others—will they be content spending the rest of their miserable existence here, in the place where all their suffering began?”

The man’s words spread through his mind like poison, plaguing him with intrusive thoughts and hypotheticals, most of which he’d rather not think about at this moment in time. Self-doubt rears its ugly head, making him question if what he’s doing is realistic, if his goals are achievable or if he really is flying too close to the sun.

He can practically feel The Doctor’s smugness as he senses John absorbing his every word. God, what an asshole.

“More importantly,” The Doctor continues, “what do you think will happen when the world inevitably finds out? You must know that not everyone will be as accepting of living toys as you are. The moment the world discovers the truth, you and your friends will all be at risk of annihilation.”

With a grunt, John hauls the duffel bag onto a platform before climbing on himself. Only after he’s readjusted the strap on his shoulder does he respond.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

The Doctor sighs, as if disappointed by that response.

“There it is again, that foolish optimism. The lies human beings tell themselves in hopes that things will work out in their favor. The reality is that your chances of success are significantly low. Whether you choose to accept that or not is entirely up to you, but I’ll do you a favor by giving you the answer to your fate…”

John looks up in time to see an eyeball staring back at him from a large monitor hanging above a doorway. A cold chill runs through his body, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He briefly wonders if this is what evil looks like. No curved horns, no pointed tail. Just an all-seeing, all-knowing gaze burning through his soul.

“You will fail. It is only a matter of time.”

It takes good effort not to turn away, not to shrink or lash out. That’s exactly what The Doctor wants, for him to show weakness. He refuses to give him that satisfaction. He steps past the doorway and only then does The Doctor finally leave, his voice having gone silent through the speakers. Good riddance.

The area is becoming more familiar now as he gets closer to the elevator. Thank goodness. This mission has gone on way too long and he can’t wait to kick off his shoes and lay back for a while. A meal sounds nice too, something easy to prepare, plus he’s itching to wash off this sweat and grime.

Except he still has to bring food back to Doey.

But surely a small break won’t hurt, right? What good will it do if he tries to return here when he barely has any energy left to move? They won’t hold a grudge if he shows up just a few hours later than planned, right?

Memories of the Safe Haven pop into his mind, smaller toys lying around exhausted and weak, Doey’s somber expression as he admits to them not eating in a while.

One hour of rest. That seems fair. Just one hour, then he’ll get right back to business. Satisfied with that idea, he turns a corner into an open area—

—only to come face to face with Yarnaby.

Any thoughts of rest and relaxation evaporate from his mind as a surge of energy shoots through his body. Yarnaby’s face splits in two, an awful, animalistic noise tearing from his throat.

John latches the Grapback Hand onto a railing up above and pulls himself upwards just in time before Yarnaby would have tackled him.

His mind is in overdrive as he scrambles to formulate a plan. It’s a completely open room with rocky ground, a high ceiling, and little to no places to hide. His best option is to get away as quickly as possible.

His eyes dart around the room in search of an exit. Across the room is another doorway. It’s too far for him to carry the duffel bag—the extra weight will only slow him down.

He hears Yarnaby climbing the staircase leading directly towards him. No time to think. He curses beneath his breath before leaping off the railing, abandoning the duffel bag. He doesn’t dare look back as he makes a run for the exit.

A second animalistic cry tears through the air, echoing within the large space.

Don’t look back.

His heart is pounding. Don’t think. Just keep going. Focus on the goal. Nothing else matters except getting to that doorway. His lungs are burning. He’s halfway there.

Don’t look back.

He can hear heavy footsteps sprinting against the ground behind him. There’s light coming from the exit. He can make it. He knows he can.

Don’t look ba—

His foot slips as he steps on the organs of a deceased plushie.

He falls.

The impact against the ground sends pain shooting all across his body. Luckily, he manages to avoid hitting his head, but there’s no time to celebrate as Yarnaby catches up with him. He narrowly avoids getting his head chomped off as he quickly rolls out of the way.

John scrambles to his feet, attempting to dash towards the exit. Yarnaby cuts him off, and before John has any time to react, a heavy paw lashes out at him, knocking his body hard enough to send him flying. His back crashes against a metal crane, seizing the air from his lungs as pain shoots up his spine.

He collapses, dark spots littering his vision as he lies against the ground. The room is spinning, his ears ringing. Pain throbs against his skull; he thinks he might have banged his head when he hit the crane. It hurts.

He can hear The Doctor’s warped laughter in the background as Yarnaby slowly stalks towards him, his shadow consuming John.

“Well, it seems you failed a lot sooner than I anticipated. What a shame.”

John tries to get up, pain resonating through his body, slowing him down. Yarnaby’s face splits in half with a sickening crack, rows of sharp teeth lined up against bleeding gums.

“You should have stayed in your place, germ. Goodbye.”

Yarnaby roars directly in his face, making him flinch as his ears burst with the sound. John squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain.

There’s a screech. It isn’t animalistic. It’s distinct. Unnatural. He knows that sound.

He barely reopens his eyes before a flash of purple rams into a mass of rainbow. In an instant, CatNap is on top of Yarnaby, the latter momentarily stunned by the surprise attack. John can only stare at the scene in shock, watching as CatNap’s claws relentlessly tear into Yarnaby’s flesh.

Yarnaby’s screams pierce the air as his body writhes in agony. It doesn’t last long before the lion manages to recover from being stunned, his own claws lashing out in retaliation. It becomes a struggle as the two Bigger Bodies fight to overpower the other.

CatNap is bigger, faster, but Yarnaby is pure muscle, throwing his weight behind every scratch and bite. Yarnaby howls as CatNap rips a chunk of yarn from his body. CatNap shrieks as Yarnaby’s teeth sink into his arm.

Savagery, that’s what it is. An intense, gut-wrenching brawl between two creatures made for violence, yet John can’t bring himself to look away from the grisly scene. Fur, yarn, and blood litter the ground beneath the giants’ feet. CatNap’s body crashes against a group of rocky pillars, a cloud of dust erupting in the air. Yarnaby pounces on top of him and CatNap reacts, kicking him across the room with both feet. They meet in the middle where they clash again, neither of them letting up despite the growing number of wounds accumulating on their bodies.

Yarnaby is getting even more aggressive somehow, movements wild, face constantly snapping in an attempt to bite off flesh. He manages to catch CatNap’s tail between his teeth and chomps. He then starts to pull and John hears the faint sound of something tearing, causing his heart to drop.

CatNap’s losing. At this rate, he won’t be able to fend off Yarnaby for much longer. John can’t let that happen; he has to do something.

John carefully rises to his feet, ignoring his own aches and pains, and takes a step forward.

Then suddenly, CatNap grabs Yarnaby’s head and pushes it against the ground.

John halts. Something in the air shifts. Yarnaby still has CatNap’s tail trapped between his teeth, growling furiously as he squirms beneath the bigger toy’s hold. Silver claws sink further into Yarnaby’s face, pinning him against the ground.

CatNap raises himself to two feet, his paw never leaving Yarnaby’s head. He drags the smaller toy backwards before lifting him into the air, his body dangling helplessly. With both paws, he grabs Yarnaby’s face and forcefully pries it open, freeing his tail. Yarnaby snarls and thrashes, trying in vain to break free.

CatNap doesn’t relent.

His paws continue to pry Yarnaby’s face, pulling, pulling, pulling. Only then does John realize what CatNap’s doing, each second growing longer as each half of Yarnaby’s face separates further beyond its limit.

There’s a pained whine before Yarnaby’s thrashing suddenly grows more desperate. CatNap remains unfazed. No, that’s wrong. CatNap’s enjoying it. His expression is sadistic as he breaks Yarnaby apart torturously slow, relishing in the cries of agony that escape his prey. Even as Yarnaby paws desperately at CatNap, the feline doesn’t stop. He drags it out.

John is shaking.

Should he stop him?

Yarnaby attacked first. He’s a threat. John isn’t even sure if he’s conscious enough to change his ways. If Yarnaby’s mind is truly the equivalent of an animal’s rather than a human’s, then maybe death is the best option for him. They’d be doing him a favor by putting him out of his misery.

A whimper escapes Yarnaby as his body loses strength. John’s chest tightens. He feels helpless, torn. CatNap’s breathing has gotten heavier, a clear sign that he’s lost himself.

It doesn’t matter what John wants.

He can’t look away. He can’t stop shaking.

In a brief moment of awareness, CatNap looks over at John, as if he had forgotten he was there in the first place.

There’s a small shift, something like recognition. It catches John by surprise. CatNap stares at him, and not for the first time does he wonder what’s going on in his head, what sort of epiphany he’s having as his paws suddenly freeze. John is still scared, even though he knows CatNap is only trying to protect him, knows that sometimes he reverts back to his twisted nature in moments of stress but ultimately has good intentions, knows that it’s his own fault for falling into danger in the first place when he should be better than this. He’s scared, because he’s been on the receiving end of that sadism, has seen the look that CatNap is giving Yarnaby aimed towards him, has felt the sting of sharp claws and the burn of the red smoke and he wants it to stop. He doesn’t want Yarnaby to die, not like this, not for John’s sake, not while CatNap is drowning.

There’s a long moment where nothing happens. John doesn’t dare say a word for fear of breaking whatever spell CatNap has been put under.

After what feels like an eternity, CatNap begins to calm down. His breathing begins to even out again. The malice in his eyes fades into the background.

CatNap releases Yarnaby.

The lion drops to the ground ungracefully. He whimpers while struggling to climb to his feet, keeping his head bowed the way an animal would when forced into submission. Defeated, he limps out of the room, disappearing within the halls of the underground.

Once Yarnaby is gone, John releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. CatNap isn’t staring at John anymore, his gaze having gone distant.

Suddenly, CatNap collapses.

John startles before rushing over to his side.

“CatNap!”

Upon reaching him, he examines his body. He’s badly wounded, cuts littering his body with patches of blood soaking against his fur. There’s a particularly deep bite wound on his forearm and another on his torso. His tail is mangled and the stitching on the base is loose. John thinks he may have fallen unconscious, white eyes appearing dimmer than usual as he stares in one direction, unresponsive.

“Shit. Alright, just hold on. I’m gonna—”

Gonna what? What can he do? CatNap’s too big to move around. The Safe Haven’s way too far for him to reach help, and while he could try running over to Playcare, he’d be leaving CatNap vulnerable. Maybe Ollie can help?

He’s just about to reach for the telephone when he notices something happen.

CatNap is shrinking.

He thinks his eyes are playing tricks at first, only to discover they’re not. Slowly but surely, CatNap’s body reduces into a smaller form. John watches in awe as the giant cat transforms into the size of a human child.

Like this, he almost looks more like the cartoon version of himself, the one from the TV show. His flesh appears fuller, ribs no longer protruding while the fat is evenly distributed. His limbs aren’t as gangly and even his face looks less intimidating. He looks… well, innocent.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of hostile toys skittering towards the room, attracted by the commotion caused by CatNap and Yarnaby’s brawl. Well fuck me. John makes a quick decision as he shoots the Grabpack Hand all the way across the room, grabbing the duffel bag he had abandoned earlier. Once obtained, he slips the Grabpack off his back and leaves it on the ground.

He crouches down and carefully picks up CatNap, being mindful of his injuries as he places the unconscious toy on his back. He’s lighter than John anticipated as he wraps CatNap’s legs securely around his waist. Finally, he grabs the duffel bag and hurries towards the elevator, carrying CatNap with him.

CatNap hasn’t heard The Angels in a long time. It comes as a surprise then, when he senses a holy presence somewhere within the darkness. Soft bells jingling in the distance, faded starlights watching him from above. They aren’t as bright as the ones in real life, he knows that because he’s seen them. That means he’s dreaming. But how did he get here?

He wants to ask The Angels why they’re here. He’d have to stay a little longer in order to do so. The bells ring quietly, whispering secrets he cannot decipher. It feels gentle. Does that make him worthy? He wants to ask. The stars are far, but he thinks, maybe, he might be able to touch them if he reaches far enough.

Before he can try, the dream fades.

Awareness kicks in as he hears familiar voices.

“…rest here for a while…”

“…food should help speed the process…”

“…should heal within a few days…”

“…think he’s waking up…”

CatNap’s vision returns, as does his memories. He finds himself lying on a medical bed in the Counselor’s Office, his body bandaged and sewn together. Surrounding him are John and three of his allies: the doll, the pink one, and DogDay. They’re all watching him with anticipation, their sizes bigger than him, minus the doll. He must have shrunk on instinct to conserve his energy right before losing consciousness.

“You’re awake.” John is the first to break the silence, his expression relieved. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of responding, CatNap sits up, ignoring the pain that the movement causes. John looks as if he wants to protest but decides against it. CatNap stands up from the medical bed, prompting the others to step back, confused and perhaps wary. He gradually returns to his usual size, satisfied now that he’s the largest creature in the room.

“You shouldn’t do that while you’re still healing,” says the doll, who fixes him with a disapproving look. “It takes up more energy to maintain a larger form when you should be conserving it.”

CatNap ignores her. His gaze falls on DogDay, who’s standing the furthest from him, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. They make brief eye contact before DogDay looks away.

It’s John who speaks again.

“How’d you know I was down there?”

It doesn’t take a genius to know what the man is referring to. After being informed by the Mini Critters that John was entering the underground, thus walking straight into The Prototype’s territory, CatNap knew he had to take action.

“My followers alerted me.”

John’s eyebrows furrow, confused, before realization dawns on him.

“Did you order the Mini Critters to stalk me?”

“To ensure you were not in danger. Clearly it was a wise decision.”

John huffs but doesn’t argue. There’s disbelief in his expression as he shakes his head.

“Three times. That’s how many times you’ve saved my ass now.”

“If you weren’t so careless, I wouldn’t have to.”

“So you’re admitting all those times you saved me in the past were done on purpose?”

“It does not matter.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“Clumsy rat.”

“Now that’s not necessary—"

“Regardless,” the doll interrupts, “you saved John. As much as I hate to admit it, you’ve helped us. We may not see eye to eye very often, but if you’re willing, I’d like to make a peace offering.”

“Elaborate.”

“You’d basically be joining our side. Clearly you care about John and we care about rehabilitating the factory. The Prototype has abandoned you and what we’re offering is to welcome you into our group. We’d both benefit from this: you’d get to hang out with John and we lose an enemy while gaining a strong ally.”

CatNap’s ear twitches in a combination of annoyance and intrigue. He knew this was coming; why else would John’s allies be here? The doll was bound to negotiate, being co-leader of their group, and while her bluntness did annoy him, it also meant she was less likely to deceive him. The pink one he assumes is here for extra muscle, in case the negotiation goes south. And DogDay… he isn’t sure why he’s here.

He decides not to think about that, instead turning his focus back to the doll.

“Do not be mistaken. I am still a believer of The Prototype. However… I will do what it takes to ensure John survives. He is useful to me.”

The doll sighs.

“Then I guess that’s as close to a truce as we’ll get. Now that that’s settled, let’s focus on what we should do now that we have medical supplies. What we have won’t be enough for every toy in Playcare, but it’s a good start. Tomorrow we can do a test run like how we first introduced the food pantry.”

“Sounds like a plan,” John agrees. The pink one offers a thumbs up and DogDay merely nods his head, his presence mostly silent.

“You did good, John. Feel free to head back to the security room and get some well-deserved rest. We’ll handle things in the meantime.”

John rubs the back of his neck.

“Actually, I uh... I still have to bring food to Doey.”

CatNap can sense the tension that rises in the room. DogDay and the pink one exchange knowing looks, as if already foretelling the dispute that’s about to occur between their two leaders.

“You are not going back down there.” The doll’s voice is stern and somehow effective despite her tiny stature. John, ever the stubborn man, proceeds to argue.

“They’re starving, Poppy. I made a promise that I’d bring them food today.”

“Can’t Doey come pick up the food himself?”

“Not without leaving his squad vulnerable.”

“Going back down there in your state is suicide. Doey will understand if you need to rest for a few days first. They’ve waited this long, they can wait a little longer.”

John appears conflicted, his mind and body clearly exhausted and yet, he still pushes himself beyond what one would consider rational thought. CatNap rolls his eyes, deciding to end this self-inflicted torment the man has bestowed upon himself.

“My followers will deliver the food to your heretic allies.”

All four of them look at CatNap in surprise. John seems the most caught off guard, face morphing with several different emotions, mainly uncertainty.

“CatNap, that’s… you don’t have to do that. I can—"

“You cannot. Do not argue.”

John picks nervously at the bandage on his hand. CatNap tracks the small movement.

“What about the Mini Critters? Won’t they be in danger?”

“My followers are adept at sneaking past danger undetected. It is unlikely they’ll be harmed.”

“Still…”

He feels his patience thinning. Is the man not capable of prioritizing himself for once?

“Your persistence annoys me. Would you rather I escort you back down there?”

That finally seems to shut the man up. He knows CatNap is in no state to fight again, yet John won’t be able to prevent CatNap from following should he choose to venture back into the underground.

“That settles it.” The doll appears pleased as she speaks. “The Mini Critters will deliver the food to Doey. Meanwhile you—” She points at John, fixing him with a look that left no room for argument. “—are going to get some rest. Immediately.”

“Alright, alright.” John raises his hands, conceding. DogDay is the first to leave the room, but not without sparing one last glance in CatNap’s direction. CatNap once again ignores the awkwardness as he watches the pink one leave the room next, then the doll.

John is the last to leave, pausing by the doorway to look at CatNap.

In the underground, the man had watched CatNap in fear as he punished the one made with colorful yarn. His face had been pale and he’d been shaking. It caused a knot to form in CatNap’s stomach for reasons unknown to him. Had he not witnessed that, he probably would not have spared the weaker toy.

Thankfully, that look of fear is no longer present, and so the knot in CatNap’s stomach disappears. John nods once, his gaze steady with appreciation, before he too leaves the room.

It finally occurs to CatNap how he got here in the Counselor’s Office: it was John. He could have left him to die in the underground. Instead, the man carried him while he was unconscious. Prioritized CatNap over himself. Stupid man.

He attributes the weird feeling in his chest to his internal injuries, nothing more.

Chapter Text

DogDay’s been distracted lately. Between their continuous efforts in rehabilitating the toys, John getting hurt underground, and CatNap sort of joining their team, a lot has happened. That last part he’s been struggling to deal with the most. Despite turning it over in his head many times, he has yet to reach a satisfying conclusion on the matter.

On one hand, it’s a good thing that CatNap’s on their side. He has strength, influence, things that would greatly benefit their team.

But he’s still CatNap. His ex-best friend. His tormentor.

It isn’t just about holding a grudge. For DogDay, seeing CatNap is difficult. More often than not he feels intense emotions, bothersome at best and overwhelming at worst. It isn’t enough to know that CatNap isn’t as unstable now as he used to be; it doesn’t erase the awful feelings that emerge whenever he’s near.

He doesn’t mention it to his friends. How can he? Everyone knows the history between him and CatNap. They’re aware of what happened, and consequently, how uncomfortable DogDay is when it comes to sharing a space with him. By bringing it up, all he’d be doing is starting unnecessary drama. He may not be on the best terms with CatNap, but he isn’t petty enough to allow his personal feelings to get in the way of their goals.

So he keeps quiet. It’s tough, but he’s dealt with worse far worse. Eventually the feelings will pass on their own, or at least he thinks they will. He’s not exactly sure how this healing thing works when it comes to psychological trauma involving your ex-best friend. All he knows is that it’s probably going to take a while, so he may as well get used to the hardship.

“We’re all set,” says Poppy, who has just finished putting together their new health stand. She dusts off her hands before turning to face Playcare. “Something tells me this first attempt is going to be a challenge. After all, free medical checkups don’t sound as tempting as free food. If we can convince at least some of the toys to give it a chance, then I’d consider that a success.”

DogDay hums noncommittally, only partially listening. He’s still thinking about yesterday, standing in The Counselor’s Office, witnessing the way CatNap interacted with John. They were so... casual. He can’t recall the last time he’s seen CatNap be casual with anyone. Maybe before The Hour of Joy happened, but that was so long ago…

“It’s a shame John can’t be here.” Poppy’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Considering he’s the one who brought the supplies. At least he’s finally getting some rest. Lord knows he needs it.”

His first instinct is to agree with her—anyone can see that John is severely overworked—but he can sense there’s something more lying beneath her words. Poppy is gazing out at Playcare, and though she looks composed, there’s a hint of uncertainty in her expression. He pushes aside his own troubling thoughts and tries to focus on reassuring his friend.

“You’re doing great, Poppy.”

Surprise flickers across Poppy’s expression. Her gaze softens as she looks at him.

“Thanks, DogDay. I’m just worried about making the other toys uncomfortable. We’ve all had bad experiences when it comes to being tested on, and the last thing we want is to lose their trust, but we can’t ignore the health crisis going on here either.”

“I wouldn’t fret over it. They’re going to be hesitant at first, that much is certain, but they’ll come around. You have the most medical knowledge out of all of us; I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for your skills. It won’t take long for them to realize they’re in good hands.”

Poppy smiles before nodding her head. Afterwards, she clears her throat and turns to address the small crowd of toys wandering about.

“Attention, Playcare!”

The activity slows to a stop, dozens of curious gazes turning towards the health stand. So far so good. DogDay gives Poppy a thumbs up, encouraging her to continue.

“The health stand is now open! Have any injuries? A headache? Fever? Come get a checkup and we’ll make you feel better!”

An air of uncertainty spreads through the toys. Unlike the food stand, no one feels brave or even desperate enough to step up. Who can blame them?

An idea occurs to DogDay then.

“Why don’t I volunteer first? That might help them come out of their shells.”

“Good idea,” Poppy agrees.

He takes a seat on the edge of the medical bed—John rushes to bring CatNap to the medical bed, ignoring his own injuries as CatNap’s limp form lies against his back, bleeding and unconscious, and DogDay barely recognizes him like this, so small and weak and fragile, please don’t die, he can’t die—while Poppy begins to prepare her tools.

“We’ll start with some basic tests,” Poppy explains. “First I’m going to check your blood pressure, which will show me how healthy your heart is.”

As Poppy demonstrates, the audience steadily becomes more invested. DogDay mainly tries to focus on keeping still, only moving when Poppy instructs him to. She checks his blood pressure, temperature, heartbeat, stitches. It isn’t the most uncomfortable procedure he’s endured, in fact, he feels surprisingly calm. Poppy isn’t like the scientists, and with each test she performs, she makes sure to prioritize his comfort.

She’s just finished writing his results on a clipboard before she looks up at him with an optimistic smile.

“Alright, everything looks good. Just be sure to listen to your body’s needs, especially while you’re still recovering from your physical trauma. I recommend at least eight hours of sleep per night and eating whenever your body demands it.”

DogDay doesn’t mention the nightmares that prevent him from sleeping as much as he’d like, or his steady lack of an appetite, both an ongoing issue. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to talk about those things, much less in front of an audience.

“I’ll do my best,” DogDay says instead, trying to ignore the guilt he feels from not being fully honest with his friends.

“Did you have any questions?”

“No, I don't think so. Thank you, Poppy.”

“Of course! And if you ever do have any concerns, feel free to ask me at any time, I’d be happy to help.”

By now, their audience has transformed from cautious to intrigued. It worked, DogDay thinks joyfully. Poppy appears to be thinking the same thing, her smile growing wider as she witnesses the hope spreading across the crowd.

“Would anyone else like to volunteer?” says Poppy.

Despite their previous uncertainty, most of the toys appear to be considering her offer. But before either of them can volunteer, the cable car arrives. DogDay doesn’t notice it until suddenly, the toys are frightened, darting back towards their hiding places.

In the blink of an eye, Playcare is deserted.

What the…?

DogDay turns his head to see what the fuss is about—

His stomach drops. He should’ve known.

CatNap exits the cable car, approaching them with slow, purposeful movements. He’s still wrapped in bandages, though it makes him no less intimidating. DogDay gets the feeling that he’s on a mission, his gaze focused primarily on Poppy. But even though CatNap isn’t paying any attention to him, his muscles still tense up, alarm bells going off in his head.

He has to remind himself that this isn’t a confrontation. CatNap is no longer a threat, even if a part of DogDay isn’t fully convinced of that.

CatNap comes to a stop in front of Poppy.

"Doll.”

“My name is Poppy.”

CatNap ignores Poppy’s correction, his eyes shifting towards her medical supplies.

“Pain pills. Give them to me.”

Poppy scoffs, crossing her arms while looking unimpressed.

“You know, when most people are requesting favors, they tend to do so by asking nicely, not demanding things."

CatNap rolls his eyes.

“They aren’t for me.”

DogDay’s ears perk up at that. He speaks without thinking.

“Are they for John? Is he okay?”

CatNap finally turns his attention to DogDay. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, studying him with that piercing gaze, the same gaze that makes him want to squirm and shrink away. It takes effort not to fidget, but still, he doesn’t. Not this time. It’s one thing to be humiliated in private, but in front of his friends? Absolutely not.

CatNap does, to his surprise, eventually respond.

“His pain is minor. He is merely being idiotic by refusing to rest.”

“Of course,” Poppy sighs before digging through her bag of supplies. She finds a small container of pills before offering it to CatNap. “Here.”

CatNap wastes no time snatching the bottle, then proceeds to walk back towards the cable car.

“You’re welcome! Jerk.” Poppy mumbles a few more unpleasantries as the cable car ascends back towards the train station.

DogDay fully understands her frustration. He could have at least said thank you. It’s disappointing to see him act so rudely towards the person who patched him up only yesterday, though maybe DogDay shouldn’t be so surprised. What does surprise him is his lack of hostility, specifically towards DogDay. He was certain he’d at least have one insult ready to be launched the moment DogDay entered his field of vision. But for once, he said nothing.

“You okay?”

For the second time, Poppy’s voice snaps him from his thoughts. He turns to see her watching him, eyebrows pinched in worry. How long had he been standing there in silence? Embarrassed, he tries his best to shrug it off.

“Don’t worry about me—I’m fine.”

He isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince at this point, but again, what good would it do to tell his friends that CatNap makes him uncomfortable? It’s not as if he can’t handle being around him at all—he handled it just fine a second ago. As long as he keeps this up, eventually his friends will stop worrying and maybe his own anxiety will start to fade.

As for CatNap, he’s likely grown bored of DogDay, assuming he doesn’t hate him. He honestly isn’t sure which is the case. Last time they had a conversation was when DogDay went searching for his lost sun pendant, only to realize CatNap was the one who had taken it. It seemed like CatNap was angry with him at the time, but it also seemed like he was confused, or uncertain, maybe.

He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Just because CatNap didn’t snap at him today doesn’t mean he won’t tomorrow. It’s best to keep his guard up just in case.

DogDay carefully holds a hot teacup with a small plate beneath it as he heads towards the security room. It was an impulsive decision, but he figured there was no harm in bringing John a little something to help alleviate his discomfort. Though a part of him worries it won’t be any good. After all, he’s never made tea before.

“Making mistakes is all part of the process. You think famous chefs wake up knowing how to make a perfect loaf of bread? ‘Cause if they do, then give me wings and call me a flying pig!”

Picky’s words appear in his head, prompting warmth to bloom in his chest. Those were good times. If only it had lasted longer. The warmth disappears, leaving an aching sadness in its place. He doesn’t fight it. Although the pain is unpleasant, it’s also familiar. A reminder of his friends who, despite everything, he refuses to forget. He owes them that at the very least.

He reaches the door of the security room before raising his hand to knock, only to pause as he hears muffled voices coming from within the room. He recognizes John’s voice, but it’s the second one that makes his fur stand straight, his voice low and unmistakable. CatNap.

There’s a brief moment where he considers turning around and retreating. He shakes it off, steeling himself before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” John’s voice calls from the other side. DogDay opens the door. John is sitting in his office chair, a few bandages wrapped around him, but otherwise looking relatively okay considering what he went through yesterday. To his left, CatNap is standing near the wall, his eyes locked on DogDay. He tries to ignore him, choosing to focus on the person he actually came here for.

“Good morning,” DogDay greets John. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

John opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by CatNap.

“Why are you here?”

DogDay fixes CatNap with a stern look.

“I don’t need your permission to be here.”

CatNap bristles. John awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey DogDay, it’s good to see you. CatNap and I were just chatting.”

A wave of self-consciousness hits him then. He knew John and CatNap had an unspoken bond of sorts, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d be intruding on their conversation.

“Oh, am I... interrupting?”

“No, not at all!” John is quick to clarify. “This is actually good timing, I have a favor to ask.” It’s then that the man notices the teacup in DogDay’s hands. His expression lifts. “Is that for me?”

“It is. I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d bring you a cup of hot tea. You’ll have to forgive me if it’s mediocre, I don’t normally drink tea or any liquid for that matter.”

“A cup of tea sounds great right now. Thanks, DogDay, you’re a good friend.”

The unexpected compliment is enough to spark joy in DogDay, his tail wagging subconsciously. He can feel CatNap’s burning gaze as he carefully hands John the cup of tea. Not that he cares to feel bothered. As long as John is alright with him being here, then he couldn’t care less what CatNap has to say about it.

John takes a slow sip of his tea. Thankfully, there’s no sign of repulsion. It appears the tea he made is acceptable.

“How’s the health stand?” John says conversationally. “CatNap mentioned you and Poppy were giving a demonstration in Playcare.”

Did he also mention that he scared everyone off? Is the bitter thought that crosses his mind. He decides to keep that particular thought to himself.

“The toys were hesitant, but that’s to be expected.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

“You have nothing to feel sorry for, Angel. We would much rather you focus on recovering first.”

“You call him Angel?”

The question catches him off guard. Perhaps that’s the reason why he acknowledges CatNap then, looking at him with confusion.

“Yes?”

CatNap says nothing, his expression contemplative, and for a moment, DogDay wishes he knew what he was thinking. It’s a dangerous desire. He once made the mistake of trying to understand, of getting too close, and it cost him dearly. Why is it then, that he continues to entertain these ideas involving CatNap? Has he not learned from his mistakes? Does he just not care?

Is he broken?

His stomach clenches with the thought. Only then does he realize he’s getting distracted again. He forces his attention back to John, who’s silently glancing between him and CatNap like he’s trying to solve a complex puzzle.

“You mentioned something about a favor?” DogDay says, ignoring the way his own heart has started to pick up pace. John seems to snap out of his thoughts.

“Oh, right. Lucas is dropping off another shipment tomorrow evening and I was wondering if you could help me bring it in when he gets here.”

It’s a surprising request, especially with his physical condition being the way it is. Not that he’s complaining; he’d take any opportunity to help his friends.

“I’d be happy to help, but doesn’t Lucas normally bring shipments during the daytime?”

“He does. But something came up, so he’s dropping it off a little later than usual.”

“I see. I hope he’s alright.”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. He’s just, uh—he picked up an extra shift at the Pizza Palace. Apparently, a coworker called out so he has to cover for them. He wasn’t too thrilled about it, but other than that, he’s fine.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Yep.”

CatNap gives John an unimpressed look, which John returns with a sheepish look of his own.

DogDay gets the feeling he’s missing something.

“I should get going,” DogDay eventually says.

“You sure? You can stay longer, I don’t mind.”

He’s almost tempted to take him up on that offer. In his peripheral, he can see CatNap watching him, and that tight feeling in his gut returns. Aren’t you going to say anything?

DogDay rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, ignoring the guilt he feels as he begins telling a white lie.

“Actually, I was thinking of lying down for a bit. It’s been a busy morning and I could use a nap.”

John’s expression softens with understanding.

“Gotcha, go get some rest, and thanks again for the tea.”

“You’re very welcome. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

DogDay risks another glance at CatNap, his eyes lingering on the bandages wrapped around him. He wonders if he's still hurting. The wounds he saw yesterday were terrible, and he doubts CatNap has taken any medication to relieve the pain. Knowing him, he’s probably trying to tough it out instead. Perhaps he should bring him some tea—

Stop

You aren’t friends

You don’t owe him anything

Just let him go

DogDay forces his gaze away and leaves the room a little too quickly. He isn’t running away. He just needs space, is all.

That’s what he tells himself, at least.

CatNap watches with mild interest as John sips the tea DogDay had brought him. He can’t imagine it tastes very good. The few times DogDay has ever cooked have always ended in a disaster. He remembers the time DogDay attempted to bake cookies, only to set off the smoke alarm in Home Sweet Home while burning them to a crisp.

“It’s the thought that counts!” Bobby’s voice echoes in his head, a faint memory that stirs something deep within him. He immediately squashes it down.

“Your deception skills have not improved.”

John groans into his cup before setting it down.

“Oh hush, it’s not like I was expecting him to question why the shipment would be delayed, and I couldn’t just tell him that what we’re actually doing is planning his BBQ party. That would ruin the surprise.”

“How pointless. Of all the secrets to keep, you choose something as trivial as a social gathering.”

“It may seem pointless to you, but some people like surprises.”

“You assume he is among those people.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. Am I wrong?”

CatNap is reluctant to admit that he knows the answer. Still, he does.

“...You are not.”

“Then it’s settled. And speaking of the party, are you going to show up?”

“I doubt your allies would want me there.”

Especially DogDay

John leans back in his chair, seeming to consider it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Your presence alone would kill the atmosphere.”

His ear flickers with annoyance.

“Then again, this could be your first step at making amends with you-know-who.”

“I have no interest in doing that.”

“You sure? ‘Cause the way you were looking at him earlier makes me think otherwise.”

CatNap’s gaze falls towards the teacup sitting idly on the desk. He doesn’t recall DogDay ever being interested in tea. He also doesn’t remember him ever calling anyone Angel. For all he knows, he might not even enjoy surprises anymore.

Not that it matters. He’s simply making an observation, nothing more.

“You assume too much.”

John is silent, studying him. Eventually, he sighs.

“Look, I’m not gonna force you to make amends. It’s ultimately up to you whether you want to try. It just seems like you’re both awkwardly waiting for the other to start the conversation.”

Silence fills the air. CatNap stares at John, struggling to comprehend how the man could speak so plainly, as if the answers were clear.

“You are aware of what I did.”

John’s face becomes steely. He speaks in a low tone.

“I am.”

“Yet you think it as simple as starting a conversation.”

“I never said it would be simple. All I’m saying is that you have to start somewhere.”

Despite his annoyance with this entire subject, he decides to entertain the hypothetical scenario John has suggested. He turns it over in his head, considering it, the possibility that CatNap might want to reconcile with DogDay. Even if he did want to make amends, which he doesn’t, he doubts DogDay would feel the same. Earlier he seemed as if he could barely stand to be near him, let alone speak to him.

“And if he decides he does not wish to make amends?”

“Then you leave him be.”

It’s the last thing said before they drop the subject. Later, his mind drifts back to DogDay, a person who has become somewhat of an enigma to him. In many ways, he is still the same: annoyingly optimistic and naïve. CatNap was once drawn to that, to his sunny disposition, to his words of encouragement, the way he would squeeze his shoulder as if reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, his words became nothing but false hope, his touch lacking the warmth it once had, and for a while, CatNap thought it was himself that was the problem. That he had become nothing and that is why he could no longer connect with DogDay. There is some truth to that, he thinks, but it isn’t the only reason.

He remembers the frustration, of lashing out, only to watch as DogDay apologized to the employees on his behalf.

He remembers the hollowness after receiving punishment, while DogDay would attempt to cheer him up with empty promises and meaningless distractions.

While CatNap sought freedom, DogDay chose compliance.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what drove them apart. What’s done is done. Now everything has changed—DogDay himself has changed. He’s quieter. Less cheerful, though that’s to be expected. He also seems more… secretive. Not just towards CatNap, which would make sense, but towards his friends as well. It makes his skin itch beneath his fur for reasons unknown to him.

By the time he returns to his secret room within the vents, the itch is still present.

His eyes fall towards his collection of items.

DogDay’s words from earlier appear in his mind.

“I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d bring you a cup of hot tea. You’ll have to forgive me if it’s mediocre, I don’t normally drink tea or any liquid for that matter.”

He isn’t sure what compels him, but his paw reaches towards one of the items in his collection. A gift. Not because he wants to make amends. Just… because. This itch won’t go away otherwise. He’s merely doing this for his own benefit, that’s all.

Nothing more.

Lucas is already waiting there by the time John steps outside. He has to give the kid credit, he’s always been punctual despite his seemingly uncaring attitude. As he approaches, he notices the white van parked in the driveway in place of Lucas’ usual bright red car.

“Where’d you get the van?” John questions.

“It’s my friend’s uncle’s,” says Lucas. “He let me borrow it after his uncle got locked up. It’s got a lot more space than my car which will make shipments easier.”

There’s a brief moment of concern about whether this constitutes as auto theft. The fact that he has his friend’s permission does little to reassure him.

“Is this the same friend that smokes pot?”

“I have more than one friend, John. But yes, it was Dereck.”

“I’m starting to think this Dereck isn’t the best person to hang around.”

“Relax, old man, Dereck is chill. Besides, can you really talk? You’re like, the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

John opens his mouth to reply, but pauses once he remembers something: the turrets. He looks over his shoulder. They aren’t visible, but he knows there are turrets lying dormant beneath those hidden panels. DogDay had assured him that they wouldn’t activate so long as no one tried to escape, yet there’s still a small possibility they could be wrong. And if Lucas isn’t aware of the danger…

Without a word, he places a hand on Lucas’ back and guides him towards the van, ignoring the teen’s protest. Once they’re safely behind the large metal vehicle, John releases him. Lucas sucks his teeth before throwing him a look between annoyed and confused.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t freak out. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“That’s ominous.”

“It’s not… too bad. But it’s important that you know about it.”

Lucas narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“I’m listening.”

He considers the best way to explain this—who is he kidding, the whole thing is bonkers. May as well just come out and say it; he doubts Lucas would appreciate him beating around the bush anyhow.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but there are hidden turrets installed somewhere in those walls.”

Lucas’ eyes grow wide.

“Holy shit, are you forreal?”

“I know that sounds alarming, but you’re safe. You’re not a target. Only reason that thing might activate is if someone tries to escape the factory.”

“And you know that how?”

“Just an intuition. Like I said, you aren’t a target, but still, I understand if you aren’t comfortable continuing this arrangement. Guns aren’t something to take lightly. It’s okay if you want to back out.”

Truth be told, it would pain him to see Lucas go. Not because they’re relying on him for food, because really, he already considers this arrangement as something temporary. Eventually, they’re going to have to find a more sustainable way of getting food without relying on one individual.

But he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss seeing Lucas once every week. He’s grown attached to the teenager, for better or worse. He might even consider him as a friend. It would be a shame if this was the last time he’d see him, but at the end of the day, this isn’t about what John wants, it’s about Lucas, his safety and his comfort which always come first and foremost.

Lucas is silent, leaning against the van with his arms crossed and eyes pointed towards the ground. John waits for him to finish processing. Eventually, Lucas looks up, his expression solid.

“I’m not backing out.”

“You sure? If you need more time to think about it—"

“Geez, quit babying me, will ya’? I’ve already made up my mind, so just drop it.”

“Alright, alright.”

Lucas huffs before looking away. John decides to change the subject.

“So did you get the stuff?”

“Sure did. I got everything: snacks, balloons, board games, drugs—”

“Drugs?”

“Kidding. Anyway, I got all the good stuff. I even brought a Bluetooth speaker.”

“I don’t remember putting a speaker on the list.”

“You can’t have a party without Bluetooth, John. Everyone knows this.”

Is that true? John wasn’t much for parties, not even during his college days. Lucas pushes himself off the van before stretching his arms above his head.

“So we gonna start decorating or what? It’ll probably take a while with it being just the two of us.”

Here it is, the moment John’s been waiting for. He tries to appear nonchalant despite his anticipation.

“Actually, some friends of mine are going to help us set up. Figured it’s about time you’ve met them.”

Lucas’ head whips towards John, his face lit with surprise and excitement. Rather than wasting any more time, John heads back into the factory, where Poppy and Kissy are both patiently waiting in the main lobby. He can practically feel the nervousness buzzing from Lucas as he waits by the front door.

When he returns outside, Poppy is sitting on his shoulder.

“Hey there, Lucas!” Poppy greets him enthusiastically. It’s clear she’s eager to meet Lucas, her eyes practically sparkling with intrigue. Lucas, to his credit, quickly manages to recover from his initial shock of facing a living doll who not only knows his name, but seems genuinely interested in him.

“H-hey,” Lucas stammers out. His cheeks are flushed, to John’s amusement.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Poppy. By the way, thank you for helping us with our food situation. We’re all really grateful for that.”

“It’s no prob…” Lucas trails off as Kissy Missy steps outside, his neck craning backwards to meet her gaze. She rubs her arm shyly while looking down at Lucas, unused to meeting strangers, no doubt.

“This is Kissy Missy,” John introduces. “She’s also going to be helping us decorate.”

Kissy offers a friendly wave. Speechless, Lucas waves back.

“Well what are we waiting for?” says Poppy. “Let’s get started!”

She transfers over to Kissy’s shoulder before the two of them head over to the van to unload the supplies. Lucas is watching them, fascinated. It’s a relief finally being able to share this experience with someone else, someone who, like him, thought they understood everything there was to life, only to have their world turned upside down.

“You alright?” John asks.

Lucas swallows before nodding his head.

“I’m good. Just feels so bizarre, but like, in a cool way.”

“I know what you mean. You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah…”

They watch as Kissy lifts the large grill from the back of the van before carefully setting it in the grass. Meanwhile, Poppy is getting started on blowing up the balloons. Despite them both having already started preparing, Lucas still hasn’t moved, as if caught in a trance. John is tempted to tease him, but decides against it.

“We should go help them now,” John says. Lucas snaps out of it then, blushing as he turns to look at him.

“R-right.” Lucas’ eyes then land on something behind John. “Wait, what about him?”

“Hm?”

He turns around. Peeking out of the doorway is a Mini CatNap, watching them both. Once he realizes he’s been spotted, he quickly ducks back behind the wall, disappearing.

“Is it me, or did your friend get a lot smaller?” Lucas questions. John releases a sigh.

“No, that’s just a Mini Critter sent by CatNap to spy on me.”

“That’s a totally normal thing to say.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, we got work to do.”

With the four of them working together, they make light work of setting up the party. John has put himself in charge of the grill, determined to fulfill his promise of making DogDay a burger. They spread out the picnic blankets and bring out the board games. Lucas finds a good spot to set up the Bluetooth speaker; he seems excited to share his playlist and insists the songs he’s chosen are bangers.

It’s a cherishable moment, spending time with his friends as the sun shines above them. Not all of his friends are here, but that’s okay. They’ll have plenty of more opportunities in the future should things go as planned. A part of him wishes he could invite Doey and his team, but as of now, they’re all still stuck underground. At least the Mini Critters are keeping them fed thanks to CatNap.

Speaking of…

He wonders if he’ll show up this evening.

A part of him thinks it would be good for both CatNap and DogDay. He’s witnessed the awkwardness between them, but within that uncertainty, there seems to be something else—longing. And he can tell it’s mutual no matter what CatNap tries to convince himself. Having them share a space in a casual, open environment could be another step towards closure for both of them.

Or maybe he’s wrong. Maybe CatNap showing up would only make things worse. Maybe neither of them are ready to talk things out. Maybe they never will be.

At the end of the day, he’s only a bystander. It isn’t his place to control what happens between the two of them. All he can do is try to support them the best way he can.

In the meantime, he’s got a party to host.

It’s nearly evening by the time DogDay begins heading towards the factory entrance. He assumes John is already there waiting for him, as he hasn’t seen him since this morning. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Poppy or Kissy either. Perhaps they’re busy organizing the new medical center. He’ll have to check if they need an extra hand later.

As he reaches the main lobby, he can’t help but notice a delicious smell coming from outside, along with what sounds like—music? What in the world? Puzzled, he opens the front doors.

What he finds is a sight that takes his breath away.

“Surprise!”

His friends all shout at once, surrounded by string lights and colorful balloons. There’s picnic blankets laid out on the grass, and on top of them are what looks to be board games and cards. Somewhere up ahead is a grill, with burger patties and hotdogs sizzling on top of it. A speaker is playing an electro song, fast and upbeat. John, Poppy, Kissy, Cat-Bee, and various other toys are all here.

“What’s going on? Is this all… for me?” DogDay questions. John, who is standing near the grill with a spatula in his hand, offers him a warm smile.

“I owe you a burger. Figured why not make it a special occasion. You deserve it, after all.”

DogDay suddenly feels so happy he could cry.

He hadn’t realized it until now, but lately, he’s been feeling pretty lonely. So much has changed since The Playhouse. Sometimes it feels like he’s struggling to catch up, and while he tries his best to be useful, he can’t help but think of himself as a burden. But clearly, that’s not the case. His friends would never think of him as a burden. To think they would go out of their way to throw him his own BBQ party—it makes him feel blessed, that despite everything, he still has great people in his life.

So tonight, he allows himself to let go. He meets Lucas, a young and sarcastic individual who appears to be open-minded. They play a board game involving land ownership and fake money, with Poppy ultimately winning after forcing everyone else into bankruptcy. Next is a card game where the objective is to get rid of all of the cards in your hand before everyone else. It gets surprisingly intense, but he finds himself enjoying it all the same.

At some point, the sky darkens, the string lights illuminating the picnic blankets. The smell of burning charcoal floats through the air, a mellow tune drifting from the speaker. He feels content like this, enjoying the freedom of being outside, breathing the fresh air, feeling real grass beneath his hands. He watches as some of the other toys run around the yard playing tag, a warmth blooming in his chest again as he remembers how he and the Smiling Critters used to do the same in Playcare.

“Hey John, isn’t that your boy?” Lucas' voice interrupts his thoughts. The three of them look towards the front entrance of the factory.

They see CatNap step outside before glancing around. He seems entirely disinterested in the party, instead heading towards one of the lone trees in the yard, far away from everyone else. Once he’s reached the base of the tall tree, he proceeds to sit down underneath it.

“So he came after all,” John says.

“Is he just gonna sit there by himself the whole time?” Lucas says.

“Apparently.”

“Huh. I wonder if he remembers me.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Is it weird that I kinda wanna approach him?”

“You can try, but he’ll probably just ignore you.”

“Whatever. Pass me another soda, will ya’?”

“Rude.”

“…Sorry. Could you please pass me another soda?”

“Sure thing, Lucas.”

John and Lucas’ conversation fades into the background as DogDay continues to observe CatNap. He’s gazing up at the stars, seemingly lost in thought. An air of mystery surrounds him as he sits alone in the shadows, and not for the first time does DogDay wonder what he’s thinking about. Whether he’s satisfied or lonely. If he reminisces about the past the way DogDay does. If maybe, he’d be willing to open himself up to other people again, even if it isn’t DogDay himself.

“Doing alright there, DogDay?”

He catches John watching him, a question in his gaze.

“Of course,” says DogDay. “Just thinking, is all.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

His eyes fall to the picnic blanket, observing the gingham pattern. In the distance, he can hear Poppy reminding the other toys to properly dispose of their trash in the bins nearby.

“I don’t know where to start,” DogDay admits.

“Does it bother you that he’s here?”

“No! I mean—I don’t mind him being here. I suppose I’m just confused about what his intentions are.”

“Have you thought about asking him?”

A humorless laugh escapes him.

“I doubt he wants to talk to me.”

“But you want to talk to him, I assume.”

He does. He really, really does. Maybe it’s foolish, but he’s sick of being in this awkward phase. He’d almost rather CatNap insult him, to be mean and cruel, because at least then it would be familiar. Unlike whatever this is.

“Y’all talking about CatNap?” Lucas quirks an eyebrow at DogDay. “Didn’t he torture you?”

“Jesus Christ, Lucas.” John pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What? Too soon?”

DogDay chuckles, amused.

“It’s alright. What happened between us is no secret, anyway. He hurt me. Sometimes I fear he’ll hurt me again if I get too close, other times I feel angry for letting him have that much power over me. But mostly, I feel miserable. He was my best friend.”

A heavy silence falls through the air. A part of him worries he may have ruined the mood. Still, it feels good to get it off his chest. When he looks up again, he sees John and Lucas both looking at him sympathetically.

“We’re here for you,” John says.

“That sucks, man,” Lucas adds.

Something about those simple words makes the weight in his chest a little lighter.

"It’s odd, isn’t it?” DogDay continues. “That I still miss him after what he put me through.”

“It’s hard not to miss someone you have fond memories with,” says John.

“Totally,” Lucas agrees. “I had a friend back in elementary school. We used to hang out all the time, playing video games, riding our bikes around the neighborhood, that kinda stuff. There was this one time we had a sleepover and spent the whole night just eating snacks while venting to each other about personal stuff. We were close, you know?”

“Then we got to middle school. He started hanging out with this group of popular kids, then somewhere along the line they started treating me like dirt, him included. I guess he got tired of me and decided I was below him now that he was one of the cool kids.”

“That must have felt devastating, being treated like that by your friend,” DogDay says, his chest aching with empathy.

“For sure, I was pissed. What sucks is that even though he was a jerk, I still sometimes think about that sleepover. It was one of the best nights I ever had, even though I felt sick the next morning from eating a bunch of junk food. I don’t know why, but it felt special. I know that’s not the same as what you’re going through, but I get what you mean about missing someone after they treated you like crap.”

DogDay thinks about the story of Lucas and his childhood friend. How their relationship turned from good to bad. How it’s led to this outcome of bitterness, anger, and sorrow. He fidgets with an empty soda can, conflicted.

“Have you ever considered talking to him again? Your friend from elementary school.”

“Nah, he moved away about a year after we started middle school. Haven’t seen him since. Kinda wished I could have told him off before he left. Oh well.”

While John, Lucas, Poppy, Kissy, and Cat-Bee begin setting up another board game, DogDay allows himself to ponder whether it’s worth reaching out to CatNap, or if they’re fated to drift apart. He’s not sure if he’s capable of letting go, if he wants to. He doesn’t like what he and CatNap are, yet he yearns for what they used to be, and what a cruel thing that is.

DogDay looks down at his paper plate. A half-eaten burger remains along with an open bag of potato chips. It feels shameful to waste it, especially considering how delicious it was, but his appetite just isn’t what it used to be. He glances around, searching for the nearest trash bin.

That’s when he notices CatNap watching him.

Alert, DogDay’s back straightens. CatNap’s stare is intense, though he’s unsure why. Maybe he’s trying to express his resentment for DogDay through powerful eye contact. It’s difficult to tell from this distance.

He glances down at his plate again. Should he use this as a peace offering? It may be worth a try, and it’s not like DogDay’s going to eat it anyway. All he has to do is approach him. He can manage that. Surely. They can—

“Yo, DogDay, you in or what?” Lucas’ voice startles him from his thoughts. DogDay whirls around to see his friends gathered around the board game, eager to play.

“O-oh, right! I’m ready,” DogDay says. He scoots closer to his friends, watching the excitement buzz around them once again. When he peeks back over at the tree, he finds that CatNap is gone. Disappointment sinks within him, but by the time he and his friends become fully immersed in the game, the feeling fades away.

Once the party is over, he returns to his room in Home Sweet Home. A satisfying exhaustion hits him, and for once, he’s looking forward to falling asleep. Just as he’s about to settle down, he notices something strange at the very center of his bed.

A small metal container with a red bow on top.

A gift? There’s no label on it. Curious, he picks it up and proceeds to open the lid. There are packets of hot cocoa mix inside. Someone gifted this to him. But who? He has no clue, but he’s grateful, nonetheless. It’ll be the second hot drink he’s ever prepared.

He looks forward to trying it.

Chapter Text

Log Date: 12-01-1992

It’s hard to imagine growing comfortable with this new life. But as the days passed, CatNap finds himself becoming just that: comfortable. The nightmares still haunted him occasionally, the ever-present fear of the people who run this place still lurking in his head, but he thinks, maybe, things could be worse. He has his friends. He also has the orphans, though there’s three in particular he’s become attached to, the same three who have made it their routine to lounge around with him during their free time.

"Did you hear about Linda?" Alyssa speaks first. She leans against CatNap with her back straight and her legs criss-crossed, like a proper lady she would say. "I heard she got adopted yesterday."

“No way. Lazy Linda?” It’s Scott who replies, his body casually draped across CatNap’s back. He used to think of him as Freckles before he learned his name due to the numerous brown dots scattered across his skin. "How the heck did she get adopted before us?"

Alyssa turns her head sharp enough that the tiny beads in her braids click together, then fixes Scott with a disapproving look.

"It's not nice to call people names.”

Scott responds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“It’s not like she’s here anymore, who cares?”

“That’s not the point. You wouldn’t like it if someone called you a bad name behind your back, would you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just find it weird how we’re still stuck here while other kids are getting adopted. Especially you, Alyssa. You’re actually smart, plus you’re responsible and stuff. Parents should be wanting to adopt you, not Lazy Lindas.”

Alyssa appears caught off guard by Scott’s compliment. Her head swivels around—hair beads clicking together once more—as she attempts to hide the blush on her face. CatNap observes her flustered state with amusement.

“I don’t know, you guys.” Jeremy’s voice is quiet as he speaks, curled up against CatNap’s side with a blue blanket clutched between his fingers. “It seems kind of scary, moving in with strangers. I’d rather stay here with CatNap and the rest of the Smiling Critters.”

“You make a good point,” says Alyssa. “Living with people I hardly know does sound kinda scary, plus I’m so used to us all being together. Then again, it would be nice to have my own bedroom.”

“Forget bedrooms,” Scott chimes in. “Just think of all the cool places we could go! I wanna go to that place with the big roller coasters!”

“You’re talking about an amusement park, right?”

“Yeah, that! I also want to go to the zoo. Or a fancy restaurant. Or a grocery store!”

“I wanna go to the mall and buy pretty clothes!”

While Alyssa and Scott both seem excited about the idea of getting adopted, Jeremy still appears uncertain. CatNap doesn’t say a word. He never does when this topic of conversation comes up. He doesn’t like the idea of strangers, intruders, taking his orphans away.

They aren’t really yours, though, are they?

He’s merely a Guardian. The orphans need more than that; they need parents. People who can love and care for them unconditionally, like a normal family. People who aren’t monsters. They can’t have that here, he knows this. So he keeps his mouth shut, ignoring the bad feeling in his gut, a type of feeling that reminds him of impending doom despite not knowing what danger lies ahead.

“Well… I guess it would be nice to see real trees for once,” Jeremy eventually caves.

“Exactly!” Scott grins widely, revealing the gap in his front teeth. “Just think of all the trees we could climb, the bugs we could find—it’ll be like we’re going on an adventure!”

Alyssa scrunches her nose up in disgust.

“Gross, no way am I getting near any bugs.”

“What about CatNap?” Jeremy looks at him hopefully, bright and innocent. It reminds him of the day that worker tried to force Jeremy into getting a medical checkup. He will never forget the way Jeremy clung to his leg, as if CatNap were his hero. “We can still visit you, right?”

“We’ll totally visit CatNap.” Scott gently pats CatNap’s side like a drum, his body still draped across his back. His freckles have grown darker and more numerous since the day CatNap first caught him trying to stay awake in his bunk bed, action figure in hand and a pout on his face. “He’s our friend, and ‘sides, how else are we going to tell him about our adventures in the outside world?”

“We’ll even send letters, that way you won’t forget us while we’re gone,” Alyssa suggests. His eyes are drawn back to her hair. What used to be pigtails were now braids, and what used to be hair ties with shiny balls are now colorful beads. Every now and then she’ll change her hairstyle to something else. CatNap likes seeing the new accessories she wears; he thinks they look pretty.

"Alright kiddos, it's lunchtime!" Picky’s voice rings from the yard. After hearing the announcement, the three children bid CatNap farewell before heading towards The School. CatNap stretches his stiff joints before rising up on two feet. In the distance, the caretakers are instructing the orphans to form a single-file line. It reminds him of little lambs being led around by shepherds.

You know what happens to lambs

He shakes the thought from his head. The orphans aren’t in danger, he makes sure of that. They may be surrounded by sin, but each one of them is alive and well. All he has to do is protect them until they’re adopted.

Unless they are chosen, like he was. Like his friends were. Like all the other living toys were.

But he hasn’t seen that happen since his guardianship began. No, the only time a child has disappeared was after they were adopted.

Why don’t we ever see the parents…?

His thoughts are interrupted as something, or rather someone, barrels into his back. CatNap stumbles, startled, but before he can lose his balance, two furry arms lock around his torso, keeping him in place. It’s the familiar scent of warm vanilla that keeps him from panicking from the surprise hug.

"CatNap, buddy!" DogDay greets enthusiastically. He’s clinging to CatNap playfully, not that he minds. It’s a common occurrence, DogDay’s touchiness, and something CatNap has grown used to. CatNap doesn’t realize when he started purring, his own arms moving to rest on top of DogDay’s.

“Ready for lunch? I hear we’re having tacos today.”

“Did someone say tacos?” Kickin says, suddenly appearing along with the rest of their friends. “Say no more, I’m in!”

“Heck yeah, I’m starving.” Hoppy stretches her arms above her head until she hears a satisfying pop. “Those kiddos were extra energetic this morning; someone must have put extra sugar in their cereal or something.”

“You know what I think it is?” Bobby speaks up, eyes glittering with excitement. “It’s the Christmas spirit rising in the air! I bet the children are all excited for the festivities, the games, the songs, the treats—just thinking about it’s got me feeling all warm and fuzzy!”

“Ain’t no one more enthusiastic about the holidays than you, momma bear.” Picky chuckles good-naturedly.

“Last year we made Christmas ornaments,” Crafty reminiscences fondly. “That was fun. I’m looking forward to doing more seasonal craft activities this year.”

“Just remember, Christmas is more than about receiving gifts and doing craft activities,” Bubba says. “It’s about—”

“Spreading love!” Bobby cheers.

“Being thankful for our friends and family,” Crafty adds.

“Consumerism and the endless greed rooted in our society,” is Hoppy's dry response. There’s a silent pause as everyone turns to look at her. She shrugs nonchalantly. “What? It’s called self-awareness. We live in a toy factory for crying out loud.”

“...Actually, what I was going to say is that Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ,” Bubba continues. CatNap’s body tenses, suddenly feeling much more aware of himself.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Kickin says with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“I’ve personally never practiced religion,” says Bubba. “However, CatNap and I were having a lovely conversation about Christmas, both its history and the philosophies surrounding it, and he explained to me its origins. Though the holiday was influenced by pre-existing celebrations, the version we all know and celebrate is tied to Christianity.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Crafty says. The others murmur in agreement, all having no knowledge of this belief CatNap has invested himself in since he first began to read. His stomach twists uncomfortably, an intense urge to flee kicking in. DogDay still has his arms wrapped around him casually, preventing him from escaping. He doesn’t seem to notice CatNap growing tense, too absorbed by the conversation.

“It's interesting, isn't it?” CatNap wishes Bubba would just stop talking, but alas, his prayers are unheard. “CatNap also mentioned how the Roman church established December 25^th as Christmas day, in honor of Jesus’ birth, though it isn’t explicitly stated when he was born in the bible. It was truly an enlightening conversation.”

DogDay looks at CatNap, a curious tilt to his head, before asking the dreaded question.

“Are you religious, CatNap?”

Everyone’s eyes are on him. Meanwhile, his body is frozen in place, his voice abandoning him. Past experience has taught him that sharing his beliefs is a bad idea. He should’ve known better than to tell Bubba, but he had been in a good mood that day, and besides, it was difficult not to share ideas with the brainiac elephant—he was so well spoken that the ability to engage with him in conversation came easily.

He can practically hear the whispers from a past not completely forgotten. You’re weird was a phrase he once heard directed at him. It had come from an orphan around his age though he doesn’t remember what he had said or done to cause such a reaction. He isn’t sure which was worse, being directly made fun of for making up stories about God who isn’t real according to them, or hearing the unkind words whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening.

It’s for these reasons that he’s better off keeping his beliefs to himself.

But these are his friends. He wants to trust them.

CatNap faces the ground, too nervous to look his friends in the eyes. He tries to focus on the feeling of DogDay’s fur brushing against his back, the pressure of his arms around his torso, grounding him. Eventually, he works up the courage to speak.

“I... I believe in God.”

The words feel heavy on his nonexistent tongue, as if he’s confessing a sin. When he looks up, he finds his friends are still looking at him, but there’s no hostility in their gazes, no discomfort or judgement.

“Yeah, we figured,” Picky says casually. “I’m kinda surprised anyone can study religion in a place like this. Ain’t no bibles around here as far as I know.”

“I found one. Long ago.”

“Sneaky.” If Hoppy could smirk, he gets the feeling she would be. “Anyway, you should tell us more about that sometime, maybe a storytime session. It can be one of our Christmas activities, since it’s related and all.”

They shift topics after that, allowing his shoulders to sink with relief. Perhaps sharing his beliefs wasn’t such a big deal after all. They even seemed to... welcome him teaching them what he knows. He’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t excite him. Even if they choose not to believe in God, it would still be nice to talk about his faith with another person for once, someone willing to listen without judgement.

Like The Claw.

He was the only person who didn’t laugh or mock him for his beliefs. CatNap hasn’t seen him since that one night outside of Home Sweet Home two years ago, and he’s not even sure if what he saw was real, or a figment of his imagination. Hopefully the former.

He prays his partner is okay, wherever he is.

Log Date: 12-02-1992

“I hope you don't mind me bringing up your religious faith the other day,” says Bubba. “Sometimes I get a little excited to share knowledge and forget myself.”

CatNap shakes his head before offering a thumbs up.

“That’s a relief. Now then, would you mind bringing out the math textbook in the closet? It should be on the top shelf.”

The two of them begin setting up for today’s tutoring session in a dedicated study room located in The School. Normally Bubba does this himself, but one day he approached CatNap and asked if he would like to help. Your reading skills are superb! The elephant had said. He also mentioned how learning can be stressful for some of the children and that CatNap had a way of making them feel calmer with his presence. Since then, CatNap has occasionally been assisting Bubba whenever he does these tutoring sessions. It’s not quite the same as patrolling, but he doesn’t mind.

Soon the orphans arrive, filtering into the classroom one by one. It isn’t long before they separate themselves into groups and pairs. While Bubba decides to tackle the students who need help with math, CatNap focuses on the ones struggling with reading and writing. A feeling of pride goes through him as he listens to a girl who frequently stumbles over words read an entire paragraph clearly. He feels it again as a boy catches his own spelling errors while writing out a fake letter as homework.

At some point, he hears a noise of frustration. He looks up.

A lone boy sits at one of the desks, one hand gripping tightly on his hair as he roughly scribbles on a sheet of paper. His knee is bouncing restlessly beneath the desk, eyebrows scrunches in clear agitation. Some of the other children glance at him warily while keeping their distance.

He recognizes this orphan. Though he hasn’t interacted with him much, he’s seen him around Playcare. Sometimes he hangs out with a small group of friends, but other times, like now, he’s completely alone. Unfortunately, he can’t remember his name. He thinks it starts with the letter K.

CatNap approaches K’s desk before stopping in front of it. This close, he can see that K was attempting to do the same homework as the other boy: writing a fake letter. It’s difficult to read, the lines appearing rough and disorderly, random letters capitalized and multiple words misspelled. Then about one-third into the page are messy scribbles, as if K got frustrated and gave up.

“What are you looking at?”

K’s voice causes CatNap to look up. Intense eyes stare back at him, the boy’s face filled with anger and distrust. CatNap ignores it as he slowly points his claw towards the letter K wrote. Want help? K seems to get the message, but instead of accepting his help, he abruptly stands up from the desk, snatches the sheet of paper and crumpling it with one hand.

“I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone!”

K storms out of the classroom, ignoring the confused stares and whispers from the other orphans. CatNap is left standing in front of the abandoned desk, puzzled. Had he done something wrong?

“Oh dear,” Bubba says after approaching the scene. “Don’t mind him, CatNap. That one’s always been a bit… difficult. I suspect he may have some behavioral issues.”

CatNap isn’t sure what to say to that. He looks down at the desk and sees the pencil K left behind. The lead is broken. He must have pushed the pencil too hard. Perhaps a pen would be better suited for him. Either way, they’ll have to work on his learning abilities if they want to improve his chances of getting adopted.

Because they do get adopted.

Surely, they do.

…Right?

CatNap looks over at Bubba. The elephant is back at his desk, humming a tune as he straightens up his very detailed notes, the orphans continuing to study all the while. If anyone is smart enough to know what’s going on, it’s him.

He makes a decision.

Bubba has just finished straightening his pencils when he notices CatNap standing in front of his desk.

“Yes, CatNap?”

“Linda.”

It isn’t really a question, something CatNap realizes a little too late. Bubba seems to think the same and waits for further clarification. He receives none. CatNap’s still trying to figure out how to ask this question without being too direct.

Bubba awkwardly clears his throat.

“Erm, are you asking about someone named Linda? I believe one of the caretakers go by that name…”

CatNap shakes his head.

“Lazy Linda.”

Recognition passes through Bubba’s features.

“Ah, you mean the orphan. Although she technically isn’t an orphan anymore now that she’s been adopted.”

“...Adopted.”

“Yes, that’s right. I am glad she found a home, though I do hope she grows out of that habit of falling asleep during class, it could really hurt her education. In any case, what makes you bring her up?”

CatNap eyes are fixed on Bubba as he speaks.

“We did not see her parents.”

“It’s supposedly a private process. I don’t know much of the details, but…”

“Do you believe it?”

Bubba shifts his weight, a sign of discomfort, something that does not go unnoticed by CatNap.

“What are you asking me, CatNap?”

“The truth.”

An air of tension falls between them, pencils scribbling and orphans chatting in the background. For a moment, CatNap thinks he might’ve pushed too far. He knows talking about the company’s secrets, including their own enslavement, is taboo. But he can’t keep quiet forever. He has to know.

Bubba glances around the classroom before speaking in a hushed tone.

“Let’s talk after the tutoring session. They could be listening, after all.”

CatNap follows Bubba’s gaze and finds a security camera positioned near a corner of the room. Good point. He turns back to Bubba and nods once.

Once tutoring is over, Bubba leads CatNap to one of the janitorial closets within The School. The elephant than pulls out a janitor’s key and unlocks the door. How he managed to obtain that key, he has no idea, nor is he going to question it. CatNap is ushered inside, the smell of bleach making his nose twitch as he squeezes between the shelves. Bubba shuts the door behind them, a single light bulb illuminating the cramped space.

“They aren’t being adopted.” The words are spoken like a fact, grabbing CatNap’s attention. Bubba continues. “Or at least, not all of them. I’m willing to bet that they do allow some of the children to be adopted in order to keep up appearances, otherwise people would grow suspicious. But I suspect most of them are being transformed into experiments, like we were.”

It’s as if someone dumped ice water onto him. He knew. Deep down, he knew that this was the truth. He wanted to believe that even though he’d been cursed with this monstrous face—this demonic red smoke—that it was all a part of God’s plan. To use his new power to protect the orphans, to prevent them from meeting the same fate as he did. It had brought him comfort, if only slightly.

To think this whole time...

“You are certain?”

“It’s what makes the most logical sense. Before we woke up in these toy bodies, we were all orphans from Playcare. It’s unlikely that we were the only ones, in fact, I would argue that the main source of the experiments come from people who are directly associated with the factory.”

Bubba’s words are spoken with a detached sense of observation, something that surprises CatNap but also doesn’t. He's more surprised that the elephant agreed to speak about this at all; he seemed hesitant earlier but the way he’s speaking now makes CatNap think he’s been aching to get these thoughts off his chest.

CatNap’s eyes fall to the floor, the weight of Bubba’s words hitting him.

“There is no escape.”

“Not necessarily.”

He looks back up. Bubba’s expression is thoughtful as he rubs his chin.

“I have a theory. There has to be an end goal to all of this. Think about it: why go through all this effort of converting human beings into living toys? Surely the goal isn’t just free labor, that seems too risky, not to mention these medical procedures cannot be cheap. No, I think they’re searching for something, an answer or a solution. Something revolutionary.”

He considers it. What could the company possibly be searching for that’s worth sacrificing so many human beings? It doesn’t make sense to him. Maybe if they went back to the very beginning...

“When did all of... this... begin?”

“From what I’ve gathered, things started to change after the founder, Elliot Ludwig, mysteriously passed away. A businessman named Lieth Pierre took over the company while a doctor by the name of Harley Sawyer took charge of the so-called scientific department. That’s about as much as I know from eavesdropping on some of the workers and scientists.”

It’s no surprise that Bubba eavesdrops—with ears that big, CatNap thinks he would be eavesdropping too. Bubba sighs before scratching his head with his trunk.

“It’s frustrating being so out of the loop. If only we had access to their records, their database…”

“I know someone who did.”

“Oh?”

CatNap considers whether he should tell Bubba about The Claw. He decides to keep things vague.

“My partner. We tried to escape once, before…”

Understanding dawns on Bubba, his expression turning sympathetic.

“I’m so sorry. Are they still… alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s their name? Maybe I have some information that could help you.”

“He did not tell me.”

It’s the truth. CatNap’s always referred to him as The Claw only because he never learned his real name. His partner had always been secretive; to this day CatNap doesn't know much about who he is or where he came from.

Bubba hums thoughtfully.

“That’s a shame. Still, it’s good to know we have an ally out there, potentially more. We could use all the help we can get.”

“What should we do?”

“For now, I think it’s in our best interest to cooperate the way we have been doing. Although this situation is far from ideal, we’re at least guaranteed safety so long as we continue to prove our worth in Playcare. We can reassess our strategy once we have more information.”

It’s a rational response, as expected from the smart elephant. Yet CatNap can’t help but feel... dissatisfied. How much longer will they have to wait? It’s been nearly three years; surely if things haven’t changed by now then they aren’t going to unless they act. Before he had the comfort of knowing that he was helping the other orphans, protecting them, but even that was a lie.

The truth is that they were doomed from the start.

“It’s best if we start heading back. The workers will start growing suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Bubba turns towards the closet door, but before he can open it, a thought pops into CatNap’s head.

“One more question.”

Bubba pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Who was the first?”

“The first...? Oh—you mean the first experiment?”

CatNap nods.

“Sadly, I don’t know which experiment was the first. However...”

Bubba leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper despite there being no one else in the closet.

“Don’t quote me on this, but I once heard a pair of scientists mention something about a scientific breakthrough from one of the earlier experiments. What was it they called him...? Ah yes, The Prototype. Not the very first experiment, but from what I've heard, he was one of the first milestones in their research, likely because of his...”

At some point, CatNap had stopped listening, his mind fixated on the name Bubba mentioned.

The... Prototype?

It’s a name he doesn’t recall hearing, yet it seems familiar.

He has a feeling he knows who it belongs to.

“There’s a lot we don’t know,” Bubba says, his voice interrupting CatNap’s thoughts. “But perhaps by continuing to seek the truth, we can persevere. Knowledge is one our strongest tools. Don’t forget that, okay?”

CatNap nods his head. Bubba seems pleased with that as he proceeds to open the closet door, allowing lights to flood in from the hallway. The instinctive urge to squint hits him, reminding him again of his lack of eyelids, something he’s gradually becoming accustomed to. A part of him loathes how much he’s gotten used to this body.

“And CatNap?”

He looks up again. Bubba is gazing at him, something like appreciation in his features.

“It was nice to finally talk about this with someone. Thank you for that. I sincerely look forward to speaking with you again in the future.”

Log Date: 12-17-1992

As usual, Home Sweet Home is quiet during nighttime hours. CatNap has just finished putting the orphans to sleep and is now patrolling the hallways. Handcrafted paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling, while in the main lobby, a Christmas tree glows within the darkness.

He doesn’t get much time to appreciate the décor before the sound of whispers catches his attention. Alerted, he sneaks around the corner and approaches the source of the noise. The faint scent of citrus and ylang-ylang lingers in the air, drawing him towards the kitchen.

“Hurry up, will ya’? I need my fix.”

“Hold your horses, ya’ addict, I gotta make sure it looks like nothing’s missing.”

CatNap stands up on two and feet before casually leaning against the doorframe, watching as Picky raids the fridge while Kickin eagerly waits behind him. At some point, Kickin glances over his shoulder, instinctively jumping at the sight of someone in the doorway, only to relax once he realizes it’s CatNap.

“Oh, it’s just you,” says Kickin. “Thought I was about to get into some serious trouble for a second.”

“Don’t lose your feathers there, Kickin,” Picky snickers as she closes the fridge door, an armful of snacks in her arms. She then turns to CatNap with all the nonchalance of a professional midnight snacker. “Same deal?”

Instead of answering the question verbally, CatNap holds out an expectant paw. Picky proceeds to hand him a portion of their loot.

When he first caught Picky and Kickin sneaking into the kitchen late at night, they made a deal: his silence in exchange for some of their spoils. CatNap wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyway, but it’s fun to pretend he will unless they bargain with him. He thinks they feel the same.

“Pleasure doing business with ya’,” Picky says. The three of them proceed to open their individual bags of potato chips and soda cans.

"Heh, DogDay thinks you're so innocent,” says Kickin. “If only he knew that you were a rule breaker all along.”

"I knew that when I first laid eyes on him,” Picky replies. “It's always the quiet ones."

Their tone is lighthearted and teasing. CatNap doesn’t mind it. Perhaps in the past he would have felt bad for stealing someone else’s food; greed is a sin after all. But it feels so small, so trivial in comparison to everything else that’s happened in this place, that he just can’t bring himself to care. He only hopes God doesn’t hold it against him too much.

Their conversation is interrupted by what sounds like a metallic door opening outside. CatNap, Kickin, and Picky all exchange looks. Wordlessly, they approach the window near the front door. Dozens of hazmat suits can be seen coming out from an entrance near the walls of Playcare. Suspicion rises in CatNap as he watches the workers enter the room beneath the statue, only to return holding boxes filled with unknown content. The workers then begin to head back to the unlabeled entrance where they came from.

Kickin shudders.

"Those guys are so creepy looking…"

Picky makes a noise of affirmation.

“I’ll say. Looks like they’re hauling some stuff away from Playcare.”

“I bet it’s something horrible, like torture devices, or like, ingredients for a satanic ritual.”

“Doubt it. Probably just ordinary supplies.”

There’s something itching beneath his skin, an urge to act while the opportunity presents itself. At that moment, Bubba’s words appear in his head.

Perhaps by continuing to seek the truth, we can persevere

Without a word, CatNap heads towards the front door of Home Sweet Home. Kickin and Picky both look at him in surprise.

“What the heck—where are you going?" Kickin calls out.

He doesn’t give Kickin a response, instead heading out into Playcare. He carefully navigates through the darkness, hiding behind objects while avoiding being seen by the hazmat suits. As the workers disappear into the entrance where they came from, CatNap prepares to follow.

A noise from behind causes him to pause. He turns around to see Kickin and Picky both crouched as they slowly approach. Surprise passes through him—he hadn’t expected his friends to follow him, yet here they were. They seem apprehensive yet trusting as they look up at CatNap, waiting for him to lead the way. CatNap’s resolve hardens. He nods once before motioning for them to follow.

They sneak through the dark corridor, concrete walls surrounding them. The hazmat suits are somewhere up ahead. Wherever this hallway leads must be some place important.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Kickin whispers, his words stressed. “This is crazy!”

“No crazier than everything else that’s been going on lately,” Picky whispers back, her demeanor more calm and collected in comparison to Kickin’s.

“Yeah, but come on, this is risky. What if we get caught?”

“Quit yer yappin’ and maybe we won’t.”

They reach the end of the hall. A massive room greets them, with boxes and crates lining the tall shelves. What stands out the most to him are the three large tubes connected to a control panel of sorts in the center of the room. His eyes fall to a sign nearby.

Gas Production Zone

“Hey, look over there.” Picky points to an elevator where the hazmat suits are currently descending. “I bet wherever they’re goin’ is the same place they do the experiments. They kept us blindfolded when they first brought us to Playcare, but I remember feelin’ like I was ridin’ up an elevator.”

Kickin groans.

“Great. So their creepy ass lab is located right below us. Fantastic.”

“Gotta wonder just how many there are down there. People like us.”

CatNap is silent, staring at the elevator where the workers just were. The truth is down there, and with it, the key to their salvation. If they can infiltrate that place somehow, then maybe they’ll find the information they need to end this operation once and for all. To become free. Just like they always dreamed, him and his partner. The same partner whose real name might be—

"The heck are you guys doing?"

Kickin shrieks as the three of them simultaneously turn around. Hoppy is standing there, hands on her hips.

“Damn it, Hops, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Kickin says. Hoppy doesn’t appear sorry in the least, a hint of amusement in her features.

“Quit being such a chicken, Kickin.”

“So original. You should do a stand-up routine.”

“What are you guys doing sneaking around here anyway? I mean, I expected this kind of behavior from these two, but Picky, you’re usually more levelheaded than this.”

Picky shrugs. Her gaze is distant.

“Wanted some answers. Been about, what—three years now since this all started? If I’m gonna spend the rest of my life like this, I’d at least like to know why.”

A heavy silence falls over them. It’s an uncomfortable thought, the idea of them spending the rest of their lives like this. No matter how much they pretend things are fine, none of them want to remain in this world forever, a world where they’re forced to be mascots. It’s rare that they talk about it—the more they speak, the more they risk being punished for it—but he knows. All of this is wrong.

Hoppy sighs.

“Let’s head back. If DogDay finds out we’re here, he’ll fuss at us.”

Kickin looks at her suspiciously.

“Hold on a second. What were you doing out here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I was looking for you guys. I noticed you and Picky weren’t in your sleeping quarters and figured you snuck out for snacks again, then I saw you three walking into this place instead.”

“And you just followed us? Weren’t you worried you’d get caught too?”

Hoppy chuckles and tilts her head, floppy ears dangling. CatNap feels an urge to touch them.

“Oh please, between us, I’m the last person getting caught. You’ve seen how fast I can run. You on the other hand…”

“Listen, Kickin, you’re my buddy, but if we were to get caught by employees, I’m hurlin’ your body towards them like a softball to buy myself more time,” Picky jokes. In a rare moment of humor, CatNap speaks, his voice comically serious as he says to Kickin,

“Your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

Both Hoppy and Picky burst out in laughter. Kickin feigns offense, but it’s clear that he’s barely holding in his own laughter, the tension fading from the atmosphere.

“Yeah yeah, keep it up. As soon as I learn how to fly, it’s over for you bitches.”

The four of them head out of the Gas Production Zone, leaving the elevator behind them.

Log Date: 12-19-1992

It was only a matter of time before the illusion of safety shattered.

CatNap is resting in his usual spot beneath the plastic tree, his three orphans chattering around him about what gift they’ll get for Christmas this year (in other words, what non-living toy manufactured by Playtime Co. will be randomly given to each child). Not wanting to ruin their fun, CatNap elects to keep quiet, listening to some of the other orphans caroling in the yard.

It’s Jeremy who notices something wrong first.

“I think that kid is in trouble…” Jeremy is pointing at something across the yard. Alyssa and Scott both stop talking, heads turning. CatNap, too, averts his attention to what Jeremy is pointing at.

A child is screaming and thrashing as two escorts drag him by the arms. In front of them is a man CatNap doesn’t recognize, a scientist judging from his lab coat. He appears entirely unfazed by the child screaming behind him as he leads them towards The Counselor’s Office. By now, everyone else in the yard has paused their activities, stopping to stare at the scene happening before them.

No one dares to investigate what’s going on. CatNap doesn’t necessarily blame them; hardly any of them are capable of stopping whatever it is that scientist has planned for the child. But that won’t stop CatNap from trying.

He carefully stands up on all fours before heading towards the screaming child.

“I’m scared…”

“It’s alright, Jeremy. CatNap knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t like that doctor guy. He’s mean.”

The voices of Jeremy, Alyssa, and Scott fade behind him as CatNap grows closer to the scene. He stops somewhere between the scientist—mean doctor—and The Counselor’s Office, blocking their path. It doesn’t take them long to notice as the doctor and the two escorts slow to a stop.

This close, CatNap is able to properly see the child being restrained.

It’s the boy from the tutoring session.

K.

His face is red, eyes darting wildly between CatNap, the scientist, and the two escortsholding him. He’s stopped struggling by now and has resorted to breathing heavily through his mouth, waves of distress rolling off him. He’s clearly frightened and overwhelmed.

A light switch flips in his mind, and suddenly, he remembers what the boy’s full name is.

Kevin Barnes.

“What’s this?” The doctor’s voice is calm and clinical, examining CatNap from head to toe with mild interest. There’s dark circles beneath his eyes, giving CatNap the impression that the man does not sleep very often. “1188 is approaching me for reasons unknown. How curious.”

“The cat’s got some weird attachment to the orphans,” the escort on the right—a gruff woman wearing sunglasses—speaks. “He gets protective whenever he hears any of them screaming or crying. We've got records of him threatening some of our colleagues. A real pain in the ass, this one.”

Her partner on the left, a more stoic man, grunts in affirmation.

“Is that so?” A flash of interest passes through the doctor’s gaze. Somehow, this man is more intimidating than any of the other scientists CatNap has ever met.

“Shall we restrain CatNap?” The woman doesn’t bother to hide her disdain for CatNap, seemingily eager to get him out of their way. CatNap ignores her, more focused on the doctor, who is still eyeing him critically. There's an air of superiority that surrounds the man which, combined with his graying hair, makes him appear more experienced than the others.

“Doctor Sawyer?” Annoyance crosses the doctor’s—Sawyer’s—expression as the woman interrupts his thoughts. He waves his hand dismissively.

“That won’t be necessary,” Sawyer says smoothly. “After all, I’m sure 1188 is just confused. His primary role is to protect the orphans from danger, and right now, he thinks we’re the ones endangering little Kevin here. A misguided yet reasonable reaction.”

Doctor Sawyer meets CatNap’s gaze before addressing him directly, his words deceptively kindhearted, a venus flytrap presenting promises of sweet nectar.

“The truth is, we’re trying to help Kevin. His behavior is abnormal, you see. Simply put, Kevin has a tendency to become… violent towards the other children. Without our assistance, he’d most likely end up hurting someone, if not himself. That would be very bad, wouldn’t you agree?”

CatNap glances at Kevin again, catching his gaze. The way he’s looking at CatNap makes him think he’s caught between not trusting him and silently pleading for his help.

“What we’re doing is no different than what you do,” Sawyer continues, the words grabbing CatNap’s attention. “You put the children to sleep, while we offer treatment to children who require more attention than others. Our goals are the same: to prevent children from accidentally harming themselves. After all, we wouldn’t want a child to get hurt because of their own bad decisions. Isn’t that right, Theodore?”

The not-so-subtle jab sends a flare of anger and spite through CatNap. Doctor Sawyer seems to notice this, his face appearing smugger. He’s the type who enjoys having power over others, will push and prod until he gets a reaction for the sake of entertainment, if not research. Sawyer gestures towards Kevin.

“This is a good opportunity for you to do something useful. Go on, then. Use the gift we gave you to help this child in need.”

CatNap’s stomach drops. Not a second later does Kevin begin struggling again, screaming and crying, seemingly terrified of being put to sleep by The Red Smoke.

“Let me go!”

DogDay tentatively approaches, eyes darting nervously between Kevin, Sawyer, and CatNap. The rest of the Smiling Critters are nearby, watching with equal looks of worry as they keep the other orphans away from the scene.

“Um,” DogDay tries, “Is this really necessary, doctor? I’m sure we can figure out a different solution than—"

“Quiet.” Doctor Sawyer immediately shuts down DogDay’s attempt at mediation. “Any day now, 1188. Clearly this child needs help. Make it easier for us to administer treatment by putting him to sleep.”

CatNap hates this man. 

He doesn’t care if it’s wrong. People like him don’t deserve love or forgiveness—how can they? The only thing this man deserves is pain. But CatNap can’t give that to him. Not now, not here, in front of these children, little lambs who know nothing but good and not the wrongness he feels spreading through his soul. He’s wrong, he’s wrong, he’s wrong.

This is all wrong.

“Hmm,” Doctor Sawyer’s beginning to look bored with CatNap’s lack of action. “It seems 1188 is unresponsive. A psychological defect, perhaps. I may need to look into that.”

“Sir, we’re running out of time,” the gruff woman says impatiently. “Let’s just forget about the toy and move on.”

Sawyer sighs in disappointment.

“Very well. Let’s continue.”

The three adults move past CatNap, who’s frozen in place, conflicted. Kevin is still screaming, and it pains him, because he knows whatever fate that man has in store for him cannot be good, but he can’t stop it. Even if he tries, he’ll only make things worse.

He just has to ignore it. It’s the only option.

“Stop!” Kevin cries out. “Please, help! They’re gonna kill me!”

CatNap’s body moves on its own. He barely hears DogDay yelling “CatNap, don’t!” as he rushes towards the escorts before pouncing on them. They drop Kevin as all three of them plus Sawyer fall. He can hear the orphans screaming and crying in the background, shocked and confused by what they’re witnessing, The Smiling Critters attempting to console them while rallying them away from the scene.

The escorts are stunned for a moment until the woman reaches for her shock stick and attempts to strike CatNap. He dodges it before knocking it away with a swipe of his paw, disarming her. Before she can retaliate, red smoke emits from his lungs, putting her to sleep within seconds.

He nearly forgets about the second escort until he hears the man charging from behind, shock stick reeled back and ready to strike. CatNap dodges again. It doesn’t take him long to pin the man down and put him to sleep as well.

It’s almost too easy the way he overpowers both the armed escorts.

CatNap has never felt more alive.

Kevin has already climbed back to his feet, giving CatNap one last look, something thankful, before running off.

Once the child is gone, CatNap turns his attention to the doctor, his back lying against the ground. A deep, dark part of CatNap begins to rise to the surface, demanding that he punish the man responsible for their torment.

He slowly approaches the man, his breathing growing heavier. Sawyer is looking up at him, his expression a mix of shock, aggravation, and fear. It fills him with a sadistic satisfaction seeing the man vulnerable like this. Yet despite Sawyer’s bad position, he still maintains a certain smugness, sneering at CatNap as if he were inferior.

“You think you’re the one in control now, don’t you?” says Sawyer. “You realize this is all pointless. Even if you kill me, it won’t save you from your fate. You’ll still be trapped here no matter what you do.”

His words do not discourage CatNap. In this moment, the only thing that matters is ensuring the doctor cannot hurt anyone ever again. He slowly reaches towards him, claws extended, ready to punish—

“I see now why The Prototype has taken such an interest in you.”

CatNap freezes. Sawyer takes the opportunity to continue.

“So you do recognize who that person is, don’t you? He’s been trying to reach you for some time now, scurrying through the vents like a rodent in order to evade us. A real nuisance, that one.”

His mind races, heart pounding against his ribcage. He can still hear chaos happening in the background, children panicking and caretakers scrambling. An alarm has gone off, and while a part of him knows he should probably be worried, he’s too focused on what The Doctor just confessed to him

His partner is alive.

And he’s looking for him.

“Where is he?” CatNap demands, taking a step closer in case Sawyer attempts to flee. The man shrugs.

“Hell if I know. It’s almost impossible to keep track of that godforsaken claw. If it weren’t for the fact that the rest of his body is confined to the lab, well, let’s just say that Playtime would be in quite a bit of trouble.”

“It’s a shame, really. A mind like his would make a powerful ally. If he weren’t so attached to such useless things, like you, and not to mention that gir... well, perhaps I’ve said too much.”

CatNap’s still trying to process the onslaught of information being thrown at him. It’s because of this that he doesn’t notice the dozen hazmat suits slowly approaching him from behind.

“But if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about any of that,” Sawyer says, his eyes glinting with something nefarious. “No, what you should be worried about is the pain you’ll soon endure.”

Without warning, an electrical shock strikes CatNap from his back, followed by several more. A shriek tears from his throat, burning hot pain shooting across his body. It hurts it hurts IT HURTS. He tries to resist the pain, but the intensity is overwhelming. Soon, he collapses.

The hazmat suits have him caged in, shock sticks pointed at him, ready to activate them if need be. Someone clasps a metal collar around CatNap’s neck as an extra security measure. It still isn’t fashionable. Doctor Sawyer stands up from the ground, dusting off his clothes. He stands in front of CatNap, looming over him with a cruel, victorious look in his features. CatNap wonders if this is what The Devil looks like disguised as a human being.

“I must say, I’m impressed by your resilience. Even after all this time, you still continue to resist, to reject this new life you’ve been forced into. But it’s only a matter of time before you break.”

CatNap musters enough strength to lift his head, ignoring the pain radiating through his body. His claws dig into the ground as he speaks.

“You will burn for your sins.”

A flicker of surprise passes through Sawyer’s expression along with a hint of fear, something CatNap doesn’t miss. It’s gone just as quickly as the man schools his expression into something cool and composed.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Now then, bring 1188 to the—"

“Wait!”

Three small children rush over to CatNap’s side, slipping past hazmat suits who are still crowded around him. Jeremy stands courageously between CatNap and Doctor Sawyer, arms spread out as if to shield him.

“Please, don’t hurt him!” Jeremy says.

“He didn’t mean it,” Scott says from CatNap’s left side. It’s the first time he’s ever seen the freckled boy look so nervous. “He’s just trying to keep us safe.”

“He’s a good kitty,” Alyssa says from CatNap’s right. Her eyes are red and watery, as if she’d been crying. “Please don’t take him away Doctor Sawyer.”

Sawyer is quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting between the three orphans. CatNap can practically see the gears turning in his head. Then he sees it—something wicked settling deep within his eyes as he meets CatNap’s gaze once more. Alarm bells ring in CatNap’s head, an intense, primal fear rumbling through him like an earthquake. He tugs at the back of Jeremy’s shirt, trying to pull him away from the man. Jeremy doesn’t move, determined to protect CatNap, but he shouldn’t, CatNap’s a monster, Jeremy’s just a lamb, a good lamb, he needs to run, run, RUN.

A plastic smile appears on Sawyer’s face as he pretends to comfort the three orphans.

“Don’t worry, children. CatNap’s gonna be just fine. He just needs a little… treatment from the doctor is all. He’ll be good as new before you know it.”

CatNap doesn’t get a chance to respond before he’s being manhandled onto a transport table. Jeremy, Scott, and Alyssa protest, but their plea is ignored as the hazmat suits escort CatNap away from Playcare.

It isn’t long before he’s thrown into a padded cell much like the one he first woke up in.

The metal doors close, locking from the other side.

He’s alone.

Log Date: 12-26-1992

They keep him there for seven days.

Most of it is a blur. Pain followed by fear followed by hunger followed by pain followed by boredom followed by loneliness. An amalgamation of intense feelings and numbness. His entire body metaphorically lit on fire only to be frozen immediately after. Trapped and suffocated. Over and over and over again.

By the time they release him back into Playcare, he feels as if he’d been torn apart and put back together, only the pieces are all in the wrong place.

It’s quiet. The orphans are currently attending classes in The School. The Smiling Critters are probably there with them. They don’t realize that CatNap’s been released yet; he doubts the employees would tell them. He considers heading towards The School but decides against it. He’s too exhausted.

He stumbles towards Home Sweet Home instead. While heading there, he thinks of the fact that he missed Christmas. He and the other Smiling Critters always did a gift exchange while playing a game called Secret Santa. He would have liked to have participated. He also would have liked to see the orphans’ reactions to opening up their gifts on Christmas Day. There’s always next year, he supposes.

He eventually reaches Home Sweet Home. However, as soon as he opens the front door, he pauses.

Three out-of-place objects sit directly in the center of the floor.

A hairbow. A superhero action figure. A worn blanket.

No.

No No No NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY GOD WHY NOT THEM NOT THEM NOT THEM I DIDN’T MEAN IT I DIDN’T MEAN IT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY GOD PLEASE WHY I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T BRING THEM BACK BRING THEM BACK I DIDN’T MEAN IT DON’T DO THIS TO ME WHY GOD WHY GOD WHY GOD IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

The world shakes, and suddenly, he’s falling to his hands and knees. This can’t be real. It can’t. He just saw them. They were smiling. Happy. Alyssa was going to have her own room. Scott was going to see the roller coasters. Jeremy was going to become so brave as he went out into the real world. They all were brave.

They were SOMETHING.

How could he let this happen?

How could he fail?

Why why why God?

It’s too much.

Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP

M A K  E

                     I     T

                                   S   T     O       P

The front door of Home Sweet Home bursts open. Footsteps rush to his side.

“CatNap!” DogDay kneels beside him, hands hovering over CatNap. The other Smiling Critters are there too, approaching the center of the room with looks of shock, horror, and concern.

“Oh my god...”

“Jesus...”

“What did they do to him?”

“I’ll go grab the first aid kit.”

“I-is he gonna be okay?”

“This is horrible…”

The voices of his friends sound muffled, distant. CatNap can’t bring himself to acknowledge any of them. He’s clutching the items belonging to his orphans uselessly against his chest, as if holding on tight enough will bring them back.

It won’t.

They’re gone.

And he once again falls apart.

Log Date: 01-01-1993

It’s a new year.

It doesn’t feel very significant. All the days are the same. He fulfills his role throughout the day. Naps when his body demands it. Puts the orphans to sleep at night. Patrols the halls. Repeat.

He doesn’t think about anything else but his job for the next few days.

Not that any of it truly matters.

He isn’t protecting the orphans, he never was. Monsters don’t protect. They hurt. He understands that now. He wishes he knew sooner before he got so close to those three children. Maybe then they would still be around. He’d still get to see Alyssa’s pretty hair accessories and Scott’s ever-growing freckles and Jeremy’s bright blue eyes.

It’s his fault they’re gone.

He isn’t sure if he can forgive himself. If he deserves it. He thinks he may be a black hole, the way everyone around him seems to disappear whenever they get too close. His parents. His partner. And now, those three children.

That night, CatNap takes a break from patrolling as he sits against the wall in the main lobby. He usually enjoys the silence, but right now, all it does is make his thoughts louder. Little faces keep appearing in his head, as do the memories of his most recent punishment, being confined and tortured for days on end. They hadn’t fed him at all during that week; it was the first time in a while that he remembered what hunger pains felt like.

CatNap picks at his arm with a sharp claw. It stings, but it’s also distracting him from the grief, so he keeps going. The claws sink deeper, piercing his skin. He doesn’t care. He’s nothing, anyway. A void. God is probably punishing him, he thinks, for letting hatred consume him. For trying to kill Doctor Sawyer. Was it wrong for him to think that the man deserved to die? No, that can’t be right. That man took his three children. CatNap can’t forgive that. He won’t.

There’s a tapping against the front door that brings him back to reality. CatNap jolts, releasing the tight grip his claws had on his upper arms. He looks over at the front door as it slowly opens.

The Claw stands there.

This time, he’s certain it isn’t his imagination. CatNap is still for a moment. Then slowly, he climbs to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains still lingering in his body.

“You are... The Prototype.”

The Prototype hesitates. It appears taken by surprise, either by the fact that CatNap knows his name, or the pitiful state CatNap is currently in, he isn’t sure. After a moment, The Prototype beckons him over.

CatNap follows.

The route they take is familiar. It isn’t long before CatNap realizes that they’re heading towards the Gas Production Zone. Once they reach the area, they crouch down behind a stack of boxes. He immediately recognizes the first man standing in the room: Harley Sawyer. His blood boils, and for the first time, CatNap feels the strong urge to rip someone apart.

Beside him is someone else, a businessman from the looks of it. CatNap vaguely recalls Bubba mentioning the name of an important figure who has taken over Playtime Co. after the founder’s passing. Leith Pierre.

“What you did was reckless,” Pierre says to Sawyer. “Causing a scene right in the middle of Playcare, then three orphans disappearing all in one night? If you keep this up, people are going to grow suspicious.”

“Calm yourself, Pierre,” says Sawyer. “I had it under control.”

“Like hell you did. Keep it up, Sawyer, and you’ll be the next one on the chopping block.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

CatNap and The Prototype watch as the two men continue to bicker. The way they nonchalantly discuss the experiments and how they’re keeping everything hidden from the public. How they intend to expand their research in search of a breakthrough. It sickens him. And the longer he listens to their indifference, the more he starts to think that maybe he was meant to be a monster all along. That he should embrace it. How else is he going to avenge those three children? To make up for the harm that he’s already caused by just existing?

He hates this place, these people, scientists and caretakers alike. They’re all accomplices as far as he is concerned.

There is no room in his heart for people like them.

They deserve punishment. All of them.

The Prototype’s hand lands on his shoulder, grabbing his attention. CatNap looks up at where he’s pointing. There’s a clock on the wall, its hands ticking ominously.

Our time will come.

For now, they wait.

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.

Chapter Text

Morale is low since the raid that happened yesterday. Toys are on edge, and even with the new alarm system installed, the feeling of safety and organization has become disrupted in Playcare. No doubt that’s what The Prototype intended, to retaliate after what John pulled by infiltrating the underground. He’ll have to figure out a way to regain the toys’ trust, or at the very least, lift their spirits again. For now, though, he’s got other business to take care of.

That afternoon, Poppy calls for John to meet her in The Counselor’s Office. He arrives in the main office, where she’s usually situated, and finds her in the middle of organizing documents into a filing cabinet.

“Are those actually important?” John questions.

“These are the medical records I’ve gathered for the toys that I’ve treated thus far,” Poppy explains. “It’s best to keep track of these things if we want what’s best for our patients.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

He takes a seat on the armchair in front of the desk and waits patiently for Poppy to finish what she’s doing, his eyes wandering around the room in the meantime. It looks like any regular old office, but he can see touches of Poppy’s personality as she begins to transform this room into her own: a pair of sewing needles on the desk, a glass tea set, one of the food pantry fliers framed and hung up on the wall. It’s as if this place is truly starting to become her home rather than a prison.

“What are you smiling about?” Poppy’s voice is teasing as she takes a seat at her desk, having finished organizing the medical records. John shakes his head.

“Nothing, just thinking about how much has changed, is all.”

“Well when you’re done reminiscing, let’s start discussing our plan regarding The Resistance. The original plan was that Kissy, DogDay, and I were going to infiltrate the underground and escort The Resistance into Playcare. But after the raid that happened yesterday, I’m afraid I’m no longer gonna be able to participate in the escort.”

He frowns. That’s not what he expected to hear.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. The toys need someone on standby in case there’s a medical emergency. Some of them were severely injured during the raid and are being monitored in the medical rooms. For me to leave them while they’re still recovering would be negligent.”

She has a point. Unfortunately, this makes things a little more complicated. If neither John nor Poppy can lead, then the only people left available are Kissy and DogDay. One of them is too shy to lead and the other is a recovering torture victim. They need a third person if they want a better chance of success.

“The other day, you suggested having someone else join the escort,” says John. “You were thinking of CatNap, weren’t you?”

“Precisely,” Poppy replies. “We both know he’d be perfect for leading the escort; you saw what he did yesterday.”

Of course he did. Everyone saw it, the way CatNap swooped in with his red smoke, putting an entire crowd of feral toys to sleep in less than a minute. That kind of power is exactly what they need to defend against The Doctor’s pets, and yet…

Poppy seems to notice his hesitation, her eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“You seem uncertain. What are you thinking about?”

“For starters, we don’t even know if CatNap is willing to go along with this plan.”

“He will if you’re the one asking.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that CatNap listens to you. If anyone else were to ask him to join the escort, he’d automatically say no, but I’m willing to bet that if you asked him, he’d agree to it.”

The armchair he’s sitting in suddenly feels less comfortable. He knows that Poppy is right and that there’s a good chance CatNap will agree to help them if John asks, though it may take some convincing on John’s part. Yet the idea of having that kind of power over another person makes him feel gross, manipulative even. He’s aware that he’s older than the rest of them, and that ultimately, they look to him for guidance. CatNap is no exception.

“Doesn’t that seem—I don’t know—wrong?” says John.

Poppy tilts her head, pigtails bouncing with the movement.

“Wrong… how?”

“It feels like I’m taking advantage of him. I mean, it’s not like he’s getting anything out of this.”

“But he is getting something out of this: a stronger bond with you. He’s made it pretty clear that he’s invested in you, so by doing you a favor, he’s building trust with you.”

He wants to argue that it’s the opposite, that whatever trust he’s built with CatNap is going to crumble away the moment John starts asking him for favors. But whether that’s the truth or his own paranoia remains unclear. For all he knows, CatNap might not care one way or the other, and he was pretty insistent on helping them build their defenses the other day, which he had no obligation to do.

“Look, I get it,” says Poppy. “You don’t want to risk damaging your relationship with CatNap. But the fact is, The Resistance isn’t going to last much longer in the underground. Their generator has almost stopped functioning completely, and once it’s gone, there’ll be nothing left to defend against The Prototype. CatNap is our best chance at getting them here safely.”

He heaves a sigh. She’s right. Again. Worst case scenario he does wind up breaking whatever trust he’s built with CatNap, but he can’t afford to do nothing either, not when Doey and his crew are one mechanical malfunction away from death.  

“I’ll ask him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll agree to it,” says John.

“Good. Also, if you get the chance, you should try delivering lunch bags to the toys on the upper floors. I know we talked about trying to recruit more allies and now seems like a good time to do that; we could really use some more helping hands around here.”

“You can say that again.”

When John arrives at the storage room where the food supply is located, he’s surprised to find the door is covered in chains along with an additional padlock. That definitely hadn’t been there before. Before he can figure out what to do about that, a Mini Critter crawls out of a hole in the wall, as if waiting for his arrival, and offers him a key to the padlock. So this is CatNap’s doing, he realizes. Strange, but it seems harmless enough, so he decides not to question it.

He passes through the hallways on the upper floors, dragging behind him a red wagon full of lunch bags. Occasionally, he’ll spot a wandering toy, and he’ll attempt to offer them some food. The first toy he finds scampers away. The second one hisses and tries to bite him. Despite his peaceful efforts, many of the toys are either too scared or too hostile to accept his gift, and with each rejection, he feels more discouraged.

Still, he persists. If he can feed even one toy outside of just the residents in Playcare, then the trip will have been worth it.

With that thought, he continues forward, turning the corner until he enters a somewhat familiar corridor.

His feet halt when he sees them.

At the end of the hallway are two bigger bodies, one larger than the other, both with stretchy bodies resembling spiders. Their backs are turned towards him, but still, he recognizes them from posters he’s seen scattered across the factory.

Daddy Long Legs and Baby Long Legs.

He’s never seen them in person, wasn’t even aware those particular mascots had living counterparts. Yet here they are. They don’t seem to notice John’s presence yet as they sit hunched over in front of a large shredder built with tiny blades.

The same shredder where he killed Mommy Long Legs.

All of his muscles seem to tense up at once. He should probably leave. No—definitely. He should definitely leave.

He takes a step and doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s too late. His leg bumps against the red wagon, causing the metal to creak, then as if the universe is personally out to get him, one of the lunch bags topples over and hits the floor, creating what may as well be an explosion in the dead quiet.

As expected, the Long Legs both turn around simultaneously.

They make eye contact.

John has seen many living toys here in the factory, creatures of different shapes and sizes, each with their own unique characteristics. Not many were able to adjust their facial expressions, though he has since managed to pick up on other cues to tell what they’re feeling, to determine whether they were hostile or friendly.

He doesn’t need to do that now. The downturn of their mouths, their partially lidded eyes—both of these together make it very clear what they’re feeling. Sadness.

Guilt snakes its way through his chest. They’re mourning. And here John is, intruding. He expected resentment, spite, fury, anything to give him a reason to flee. There’s none. All he sees is sorrow, and somehow, he feels less confident now than if they were actively trying to kill him.

He stands there for what he thinks is far too long, trying desperately to search for the right words to say. He knows which ones his heart is aching to say the most, but a part of him is afraid of how it will be received, if they’ll accept or reject his words.

It doesn’t matter. Even if they reject him, even if the guilt festers, he needs to say it.

“I’m so sorry.”

Neither Daddy nor Baby say anything; they don’t need to. From the way they’re looking at him, he thinks he may have already been forgiven. That they understand why he did what he did, knew the kind of person Mommy had become, had seen her grow angrier and more bitter as the days passed. Maybe they knew her fate was inevitable, and that’s why they aren’t seeking vengeance on John.

He wonders if she knew what she’d be leaving behind, if she considered these two people who continue to mourn her long after her death. Maybe a part of her regretted not saying goodbye.

Not wishing to overstay his welcome, he turns around to leave. Then he remembers the lunch bags. He can’t leave without offering them some. It’s the least he can do.

He slowly approaches the Long Legs, red wagon in tow, and offers them each a lunch bag.

“I know it isn’t much, but…”

To his relief, the spiders accept the gifts. They open their bags, examining the contents inside. Rather than digging right in, Baby glances at the shredder, then at his own lunch bag, then at the red wagon. Without a word, Baby looks up at John with big orange eyes and holds out both hands expectantly, as if asking for another lunch bag. John doesn’t hesitate to hand him another; he figures the spiderling must be starving and wants to save another bag for later.

But instead of tucking the bag away for another time, Baby places the second bag in front of the shredder. An offering.

His chest aches.

He leaves the two spiders to mourn and heads back towards the train station. The remaining lunch bags are more than he would have liked but less than he started with; he’ll count that as a win. As he’s about to step onto the platform of the train, he hears a loud snap and nearly jumps out of his skin. His head whips down. A closed beartrap lies on the floor, barely missing his foot, instead activated by the wheel of the wagon.

“Son of a—CatNap!”

Abandoning the wagon, John hurries onto the train, intent on tracking CatNap down.

The idea of proving his worth is not an unfamiliar one to CatNap. With devotion comes sacrifice, and for this reason, he has no issue offering his gifts in the name of something greater. Once it was The Prototype, his savior, who he served, but that voice has not come to him in ages. It leaves him aimless, a lost soul wandering an empty void in search of solace, until within the deafening silence comes a new voice: a man’s.

It took a while before he recognized how special that voice is, but he hears it now, that calling, a flame that beckons him with the promise of creation and destruction. He hesitates to touch it. The fire is familiar yet new, scorching yet gentle. It isn’t aware of itself, this flame, and CatNap thinks maybe he shouldn’t be reaching towards it.

But it is very tempting.

So he offers some of his devotion to the new flame, not quite touching it, but hovering, testing the heat. He adds chains to the storage room where the food is being held. He has his minions stationed in various places for surveillance. He places beartraps in hidden locations to prevent enemies from sneaking in. And now he is patrolling Playcare much like he used to in search of suspicious activity.

All of this is to prove how worthy he is. It’s what he knows best, though the flame may not recognize that at first.

“CatNap!”

Speaking of.

His steps slow to a stop near the edge of the yard before he turns around. John is walking straight towards him, and judging from his quick steps and the way his eyebrows are furrowed, he seems displeased.

“I thought we decided we weren’t going to do the beartrap thing. Where did you even get those?” His voice is stressed, words laced with frustration and worry. CatNap would feel bad, but he knows this is the best course of action for the man, whether he chooses to admit that or not.

“You are vulnerable without proper defenses. I am doing what is necessary.”

“We talked about this; what you’re doing isn’t safe. I nearly lost a foot a minute ago on my way back from the upper floors.”

CatNap pauses. He’d forgotten that among all of John’s traits, there is clumsiness. There is no use in setting traps if they only cause harm to the man.

“I will remove the traps.”

“I’m telling you, there are better ways of protecting Playcare without—wait, what?”

“You are right. They are too dangerous. I will remove them by nightfall.”

Whatever lecture John was about to give disappears from his tongue, eyes blinking as he stares at CatNap dumbly. Amused, CatNap simply stares back as he waits for him to respond.

“Oh. That was—surprisingly easy.” John shifts his weight. He looks unprepared. “So um, what are you doing now?”

“Patrolling.”

“You’re pretty productive today, aren't you? Not that I’m complaining, but still, it’s unusual for you to help out this much.”

There’s a crease in the man’s forehead, eyes searching for something, though CatNap has no clue what the man is seeking. Shouldn’t he be pleased that CatNap is going out of his way to support him and his allies? Yet instead of a positive response, all CatNap sees is confusion and worry. Why? It doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t John see how committed he is?

John examines him from head to toe before meeting his gaze again. His next words are spoken with unexpected softness.

“Is everything okay?”

CatNap doesn’t know how to respond to that. Of course he’s okay. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s proving his worth. He’s making himself useful. He’s—

He’s.

Is this right?

Does he want this? Surely, he must.

And yet, he begins to doubt himself. Maybe this isn’t the path he should be taking. A road he’s walked once before, one that stretches beyond the horizon, too far to see the end. A road filled with rocks and sticks and potholes. It’s uneven, makes his feet ache and his head spin, but at least it’s familiar. He doesn’t know if that’s a good enough reason to pursue it.

“CatNap?” John calls out, steadily growing more worried from his lack of response.

Before CatNap can speak, an alarm blares through the air. He and John both whip their heads in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from Home Sweet Home. They exchange looks before sprinting off towards the building.

CatNap arrives first, bursting through the entrance, his senses on high alert. His eyes land on the culprit: a Bunzo Bunny frozen in shock as he stands near the lever. That shock turns to fear as his beady eyes land on CatNap. It scampers away, disappearing through a hole in the wall right before DogDay enters the room from the hallway, hands covering his ears to block out the noise.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack?” DogDay’s voice is stressed. There’s a brown stain on his stomach as if he’d spilled something. Otherwise, he appears unharmed.

“No.” CatNap offers no other explanation than that, instead focusing his attention on shutting off the alarm. John reaches the entrance, eyes darting around the room in search of danger.

“I’m here! What did I miss?”

“A pest.” CatNap gestures towards the hole in the wall where the Bunzo Bunny who set off the alarm escaped from. John and DogDay appear to put two and two together, their expressions a mix of relief and dissatisfaction.

“Ah geez,” says John. “Give me a sec, I’ll turn it off.”

After grabbing a ladder and tinkering with the device, John manages to deactivate the alarm. He’s climbing back down the ladder when the doll and the pink one arrive.

“Everything alright?” says the doll.

“It was a false alarm,” John replies. “Apparently someone got curious and decided to pull the lever. On the bright side, at least we know the alarm system works.”

“Are you kidding me? I was in the middle of tending to a patient and some moron thought it was a good idea to pull the alarm for no reason? If I catch that person, they’re getting banned from Playcare for a week.”

“I forget how scary you are when you’re angry. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

The pink one approaches DogDay before pointing to the brown stain on his stomach, questioning why it’s there. DogDay chuckles while rubbing the back of his head.

“I was in the middle of drinking hot cocoa when the alarm went off,” DogDay explains, the mention of hot cocoa causing CatNap’s ears to perk. “Unfortunately, I got startled and spilled some of it on myself.”

The pink one worriedly raises her hands to cover her mouth. DogDay must sense her concern and quickly clarifies.

“I’m alright, it wasn’t that hot. I’ll admit, it hurt more when I tripped and fell out of my chair.”

At this, John snickers. He covers his mouth with a hand, attempting to hide what he did, but it’s too late as DogDay clearly heard him, a glint of amusement in his gaze.

“Are you laughing at me, Angel?”

“No,” John denies.

“Wow, John, I can’t believe you would make fun of him,” Poppy teases. “Have you no shame?”

“I thought we were friends,” DogDay plays along.

“I’m not laughing.” The waver in John’s voice betrays him as he tries and fails to maintain a serious face. The pink one giggles nonverbally, hands covering her mouth.

“You’re laughing. I’m in pain and you’re laughing.”

“You villain.”

“You guys love tormenting me, do you?”

The four of them are laughing and joking with one another. CatNap is captivated, unable to look away from them. The way they stand together, happy and hopeful and bright, like fire, like—stars. Suddenly, CatNap feels distant, lurking in the shadows as he observes the light.

He doesn’t belong here.

A cold feeling seeps into his blood, spreading through his body like poison. He realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing. These people aren’t his friends. His friends are DEAD. They were always going to DIE because he is NOTHING. EVERYONE DIES eventually and it’s only a matter of time before he FAILS again and—

Stop. Don’t think. Not now. It will only make things worse.

But the emptiness remains, the voices of John and his friends turning muffled as the world fades around him. The hunger stirs deep within, leaving him desperate to feel whole, and he’s caught between wanting to devour any creature in sight and tearing into his own stomach. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE YOU DEVOURED HASN’T IT? JUST ONE BITE. DO IT. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO

NO MORE. JUST GO AWAY

His breathing is starting to pick up. He needs to get away. He’s dangerous like this. But the room where he hides is so far—he’s not sure he’ll make it before he loses himself. CatNap grasps onto the threads of reality as tight as he can, struggling to think past the ideas of death and torture. Something nudges at the very back of his mind, reminding him of what he’s supposed to do in this situation, how to communicate when he starts to lose himself.

He looks down at the moon pendant dangling from his zipper. His paw is shaking as he slowly raises it, pointing the tip of his claw towards the metal.

He taps it.

“Hey.”

CatNap’s vision returns. John is standing in front of him, a soft, understanding look on his face. He must have come straight over as soon as he heard the signal.

“I’m here,” John reassures. “Follow me.”

Wordlessly, CatNap follows John into one of the bedrooms, his friends too distracted to notice them. The moment they’re inside, CatNap goes to the furthest corner away from the door and curls against the floor, staying there. John quietly shuts the door before turning back towards CatNap, face full of concern. He takes a step closer, causing CatNap to immediately tense up. John pauses, noticing.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

CatNap shakes his head. He doesn’t trust that he won’t hurt the man if he gets too close. Thankfully, John doesn’t push it.

“Alright.” John takes a seat on one of the bottom bunk beds, never once leaving CatNap’s field of view, and waits.

An indiscernible amount of time passes as CatNap rides out his panic attack. John is a constant in the midst of his turmoil, grounding him with gentle reassurances, repeated phrases of It’ll be okay and You’re alright and I’m here. Sometimes his claws will flex, urging him to distract himself with physical pain, and John will somehow sense his intentions before patiently reminding him to keep his paws against the floorboards.

A part of him still fears he’ll lash out and attack John at any moment. He doesn’t want that, no matter how much the thoughts scream at him to do so. Instead, he forces his body to stay put, tucked away in a dark corner where he can’t hurt anyone. He tries to focus on breathing and not thinking. It takes a while, but eventually, the shaking in his body becomes less, his heart rate gradually slowing. By now, he’s certain John must have gotten bored, almost expects him to get up and leave. The thought is nearly enough to trigger another attack; he doesn’t want to be alone.

The seconds tick by and John still doesn’t leave. Instead, the man finds a yo-yo left abandoned on the floor near the bed. CatNap watches as the man plays with it, looping the string around the base before tossing. It’s strangely calming. His thoughts fade into the background as he watches the man perform different tricks, cursing whenever he messes it up. Judging from his techniques, it seems as if he practiced a lot as a child, but has since grown rusty.

The scrambling thoughts appear to be gone now, returning to him some form of normalcy. CatNap releases the iron grip of his claws against the floorboards—noting the scratches he unintentionally carved into the wood—and carefully stands up. John stops catching his yo-yo and looks over at CatNap.

“Feeling better?”

CatNap grunts in affirmation.  

“That’s good.” John stands up from the bed, pocketing the yo-yo. He calmly examines CatNap before meeting his gaze. “Do you know what triggered you?”

To that, CatNap doesn’t reply. It’s embarrassing enough to be seen in such a vulnerable state; he’d rather not admit that seeing John and his friends being happy is what drove him towards a panic attack. Once again, John doesn’t push it.

“Don’t worry about it.” A warm smile appears on John’s face then, and finally, finally, CatNap feels like he’s accomplished something. “Thanks for giving me the signal out there. You did good.”

Such simple words, yet it stirs within him this feeling of joy and lightness. He can feel himself drawing closer to the flames, mesmerized by it—by him. John doesn’t appear to notice CatNap’s internal revelation, seeming distracted by something as he rubs the back of his neck.

“By the way, there’s... something I wanted to ask you.”

CatNap tilts his head curiously, encouraging the man to continue.

“Would you mind helping us rescue the toys trapped in the underground? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just let me know in case I need to figure out a new plan.”

“Very well.”

A flicker of surprise passes through John. His expression softens.

“Just so you know, it means a lot to me that you’re doing this—the others, too. I think they’ll be happy knowing that you’re helping us out.”

He knows. Though he couldn’t care less about the others; he’s not doing this for them. Everything is for John. This burning flame, this beacon of light that has appeared within the void. Angel. That’s what DogDay had called him, and what a fitting title it is, this guardian sent to guide them towards salvation.

And as CatNap follows John out of the bedroom, he thinks, he would do just about anything for him.

Chapter Text

Tomorrow is the day his friends attempt to escort The Resistance to Playcare. Until then, John busies himself by researching the toys, something he’s been meaning to do for some time but never got around to. He’s sitting on a bench in Playcare, notepad in his lap while he observes the few toys cautiously roaming around the yard. Kissy is sitting beside him, which surprises him at first—normally she’s assisting Poppy or hanging out in her bedroom. He doesn’t question it, not minding her company.

“Hey Kissy,” John says, having taken a break from writing down observations, pen tapping idly against the notepad. “What do you think about opening up an education center?”

Kissy tilts her head at him curiously. He continues.

“The reason I ask is because I was thinking about ways of improving mental health throughout the factory. I doubt any of us are qualified to give licensed therapy, but with enough research—all ethical, of course—we could educate them, you know, give them the tools they need to better themselves.”

Kissy appears to light up, nodding her head quickly in agreement. It’s not often John sees her this excited; he can’t help but feel endeared.

“Not a bad idea, right? I’m sure the others would be on board too. Let’s bring it up during our next meeting.”

Kissy points at him, tilting her head as if she were asking, How will you do it? He rubs his chin, considering.

“You’re right, it would be hard for me to run a school on top of everything else I do. I may need someone to volunteer, someone who’s decent at instructing. We could ask Ollie if he wants to help. He’s pretty smart.”

Kissy looks away, rubbing her arm shyly. The expression confuses him at first until it hits him. He smiles knowingly.

“Did you want to be the teacher?”

She nods her head.

“Then it’s settled. Heck, we can even start cleaning up The School today if you want, and you can have your own classroom to decorate. Sound good?”

She gives him a thumbs up. Before they can make further arrangements, Poppy’s voice comes shouting from The Counselor’s Office.

“John!”

He winces. That can’t be good.

“Uh oh, I’m in trouble.”

Kissy offers him a sympathetic look. Within moments, Poppy is storming towards them, looking aggravated.

“He stole my stethoscope!”

John looks at her incredulously.

“Me? I’m innocent!”

“Not you. CatNap. And before you ask how I know he did it, there’s purple fur near my desk that certainly wasn’t there before the stethoscope went missing. That no-good, mouth-breathing, stethoscope-swiping thief!”

Her face turns red, reminding him of a bitter strawberry. He doesn’t know if he should feel more worried for her or for CatNap.

“He probably took it to add to his collection.” John heaves a sigh. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Please do, because if I see him right now, I’m going to do something regrettable.”

“Noted.”

He closes his notepad, deciding he probably won’t get much research done today after all, and heads off to find CatNap before Poppy figures out how to make him explode telepathically.

John exits the vent, stepping into the hidden room located within the walls. As expected, CatNap is there, appearing focused as he reorganizes his steadily growing collection of lost—or stolen, evidently—items onto various shelves. John waits for him to acknowledge his presence, figuring he might not have noticed him yet.

“Speak,” says CatNap after ten seconds of silence, not once pausing his reorganization, and only then does John realize that CatNap has long since noticed his arrival, because of course he did, he has the senses of an apex predator, how would he not notice John standing there like an idiot?

John clears his throat, brushing off his embarrassment to focus on the task at hand.

“Did you take Poppy’s stethoscope?”

CatNap’s voice is unconcerned as he replies.

“Yes.”

“She’s really upset, you know. You should give it back.”

“Is that what you wish?”

John frowns. That’s a strange question.

“Yes? I mean, I'd like for you and Poppy to get along, sure. Either way, it’s polite for you to return what you stole from her.”

CatNap finally stops moving around, his gaze shifting to John with something thoughtful. Eventually, he responds.

“I will give it back.”

“Great…”

John should feel relieved; the situation is basically resolved and now he can go back to researching the toys like he’d been doing prior to Poppy’s interruption. But something about this feels too easy. Now that he thinks about it, CatNap has been oddly compliant lately, way more than usual, in fact. It’s… unnerving.

Eager to distract himself from the strange feeling in his gut, John turns his attention to the organized display of knick-knacks surrounding them.

“I see your collection is getting bigger.”

An almost proud look appears on CatNap’s expression as he turns to face the shelves.

“Indeed.”

“You can open up a little shop with all this stuff you have.”

A scoff.

“I do not share.”

“So what I’m hearing is, you’re okay with taking other people’s stuff, but not the other way around?”

“Other people do not matter to me.”

“You know, there’s this thing called The Golden Rule. It goes something like this: treat others the way you want to be treated. I’m pretty sure it’s in the bible too.”

“Those are not the exact words.”

“Whatever, my point still stands. You should treat others with the same respect that you want. How would you feel if someone stole from you?”

CatNap slightly tilts his head, as if that were the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“If someone stole my possessions, I would murder them.”

“That’s not—” John pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to summon as much patience as he can. “You shouldn’t disregard other people’s feelings. Don’t you want to form a better relationship with the others?”

“They mean nothing to me.”

“Well I care about them, and I would prefer for you not to antagonize my friends."

CatNap rolls his eyes before heading towards the shelves. John follows him, persistent.

“What about DogDay? I notice you and him have been tolerating each other more.”

A sneer.

“That Mutt is hardly tolerable.”

“He’s not a mutt, stop calling him that. Anyway, you should really consider talking to him. I think by now you would both benefit from it. Especially if you, you know...”

John hesitates, knowing he’s crossing into dangerous territory. CatNap, ever the creature of observance, picks up on his uncertainty immediately.

“Spit it out.”

“Nothing, I just…” John scratches the back of his head. “I think it would be nice if you were to, you know—apologize.”

CatNap stares at John as if he had just grown two heads.

“You want me to apologize.”

“Well... yeah.”

Silence. CatNap is still staring, and John gets the sense that he’s being analyzed, causing him to fidget uncomfortably. Then CatNap leans closer, not challenging, but curious, as if trying to make sense of something he doesn’t understand.

“Why?”

John thinks it should be obvious, but then remembers this is CatNap, the same guy who used to hunt other toys for sport. He may as well be speaking to a child, explaining why it’s wrong to push other kids at the playground.

“Because you hurt him. Really badly.”

“He chose to defy The Prototype. It is his own fault he was punished.”

“You’re wrong. No one deserves what you did regardless of their beliefs.”

CatNap’s ear twitches once, a sign that he’s growing agitated. John doesn’t back down. He needs to get through to him that what he did isn’t okay.

“Even if you don’t agree with his ideals, it doesn’t change the fact that he was still your friend—”

“Enough.”

His jaw snaps shut. CatNap pulls away, but still looks down at John with something akin to anger. It seems that bringing up DogDay has caused a shift in his behavior, that whatever has brought upon his sudden obedience has been temporarily put aside.

“You demand too much,” CatNap says indignantly. A small pang of guilt hits John. Is he being too pushy? He can’t dictate what CatNap does or feels, he knows that, but it also seems like he has to call him out or else he won’t even consider changing his mind. The line between not getting involved and gently nudging towards the right direction seems to get blurrier the longer this goes on.

John takes a deep breath before rethinking his approach. Eventually, he settles with something less confrontational, more open.

“I just think you should be honest with yourself.”

“It is him who is dishonest,” CatNap shoots back. “Any form of kindness from that Mutt is false. An act. We may pretend we do not resent each other, but it won’t last. Apologizing will resolve nothing.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

CatNap looks away, his tail flickering back and forth. He seems caught between taking John’s advice and refusing to express even the slightest form of sentimentality. Eventually, he turns his back on John, a sign that this conversation is over.

“Get out.”

Without another word, John leaves the hidden room. That went well, he thinks sarcastically. At the very least, he gave CatNap something to think about. It’s always a gamble when it comes to giving CatNap advice involving feelings or morality.

He’s just glad nothing seriously bad came out of this.

CatNap drags his feet towards The Counselor’s Office, irritation radiating from him in waves, warding off any creature who stumbles within his line of sight. The stethoscope hangs clutched between his tail, an item that he is now, begrudgingly, returning to the doll.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t bother giving it back. The moment he discovered the medical device was the moment he decided it now belonged to him. He couldn’t care less if the doll is upset. In fact, if he had his way, he’d dangle the stethoscope in front of her, then snatch it away at the last second just to see her fume, for his own amusement.

But John has commanded him to return the item. So he will.

He finds the doll sitting behind a desk in the main office. Without a word, he slings the stethoscope onto the desk, metal clattering against wood. The doll’s face remains neutral, barely glancing at the stethoscope before fixing her gaze back to CatNap.

“Thank you.” Her voice is formal, seemingly forcing the words out.

“I'm not doing this for you.”

“I believe it.”

Having wasted enough time here, CatNap turns around to leave.

“You know John isn’t The Prototype, right?”

He halts. For a moment, the world appears to stop moving. The doll is still staring at his back, something almost like pity in her expression.

“He’s not gonna appreciate you serving him like this.”

Anger, raw and unbidden, rises from deep within this soul. Insolent wretch. How dare she speak to him on John’s behalf? As if someone like her could possibly understand the true meaning of devotion, to bear witness to the flame and give up everything to see it thrive. His claws flex with the urge to move, to snatch that stethoscope and strangle her with it, cooperation be damned.

He slowly turns, facing the doll with contempt, and stalks towards her.

“You know nothing.”

The doll doesn’t move, her body stiff as she stares at him defiantly. It won’t take long for him to wipe that look off her face—

Suddenly, the office door opens. They both pause, turning their attention to the person entering the room.

DogDay walks in, carrying an armful of spray bottles, sponges, and trash bags, among other things.  

“Hey Poppy, I brought those cleaning supplies you wanted—”

DogDay pauses when he sees CatNap. He looks between him and Poppy, once, then twice. The tension grows as uncertainty appears in DogDay’s expression.

“Am I interrupting something?” His words are laced with suspicion, his wary gaze never straying away from CatNap for too long. The doll responds swiftly, perhaps in an attempt to alleviate the situation.

“Not at all. CatNap was just leaving. Right, CatNap?”

But he isn’t paying attention to her anymore. His focus is entirely on DogDay, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

John told him to apologize.

CatNap raises himself to stand on two feet, then slowly approaches the canine. DogDay’s eyes are locked on him, cautious. In a few steps, CatNap has him backed against the wall, his shadow looming as he towers over him.

“What are you doing?” DogDay’s shoulders are tense, clutching the cleaning supplies tighter against his chest. He’s afraid. But that isn’t new. CatNap has seen his fear, has tasted it numerous times before, in a padded cell with rusted chains and only darkness to keep them company. It’s addicting, but he isn’t here for that, not this time. He has a job to do.

“I am sorry.”

Shock, disbelief, followed by a glint of hope in DogDay’s gaze. He’s still wary, but CatNap can see his walls beginning to lower.

“You’re... sorry?”

“I was unable to convince you to join The Prototype. For that, I apologize.”

The hope in DogDay’s eyes vanishes. It’s familiar in the worst way, and CatNap is struck with déjà vu, with the feeling of having someone so fragile within his control. But that’s not what he’s here for.

“That’s what you’re sorry for?” DogDay’s voice is a mixture of frustration and disbelief. CatNap merely tilts his head.

“Of course. What other reason is there?”

It’s as if a bottle cracks, emotions that have long been closed off spilling from the canine all at once. Anger is the most predominant, hackles raising and eyes glaring.  

“You—I cannot believe you. Are you serious? Do you even realize what you did to me?”

CatNap says nothing, his head remaining tilted. This wasn’t the reaction he anticipated upon apologizing. He watches with curiosity as the pot boils over, the rest of the world fading, leaving only him and DogDay. Moon and Sun. Predator and Prey. Nothing and Something.

“We trusted you. I trusted you. And you turned your back on us. You abused me!”

An accusation. For a moment, CatNap only stares. Then he moves, slow and methodical, as he leans closer to the canine, paw pressed against the wall near his head, trapping him. DogDay’s anger falters, fear appearing once more as he realizes that he’s caged in.

“You deserved it.”

And it’s those words that make DogDay break.

CatNap is snapped out of his trance by the sound of cleaning supplies dropping onto the floor. DogDay’s gaze is hollow, the anger and fear having vanished entirely. CatNap knows that look, and is once again brought back to the padded cell, to having DogDay at his mercy, to hurting him—but they aren’t there anymore. He isn’t here for that, he doesn’t want it, so why is this happening now?

DogDay laughs, quiet at first, before steadily growing louder, more twisted. It’s unsettling and—wrong. CatNap retracts his paw, taking a step back as he watches the canine spiral, bloody tears rolling from his eye sockets. This isn’t what he wanted.

“Oh god… I can’t do this. I can’t.”

His voice is desperate, broken. Something twists in CatNap’s chest, but before he can address it, DogDay rushes out of the office. CatNap can only watch, stunned and speechless.

“Was it worth it?” The doll says bitterly, having watched the whole scene from behind the desk. CatNap doesn’t reply.

It’s then that John’s voice appears from somewhere down the hall.

“DogDay? Hey, wait!”

Another door slams in the distance. Footsteps can be heard hurrying towards the office before John steps in.

“DogDay just ran past me crying,” says John. “What in the world happened?”

“Ask him.” The doll shoots a look towards CatNap. John shifts his gaze, frowning as they make eye contact.

“What did you do?” The words sound accusatory much to his dissatisfaction. After all, it was John’s idea for him to approach DogDay in the first place. All he did was obey his command.

“I did what you asked. I apologized.”

The doll snorts derisively. CatNap ignores her. John looks between the two of them, seemingly out of the loop. Eventually, he sighs, running stressed fingers through his hair before turning to leave.

“I’ll go talk to DogDay. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but either way, you should probably give him some space for a while.”

“If that’s what you want.”

John stops in his tracks. He turns back around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean if that’s what I want?”

The doll heaves a sigh before dropping from her chair.

“I’m gonna leave you two to sort this out,” she says.

The door shuts behind her, leaving only CatNap and John left in the office, a heavy tension floating in the air. CatNap doesn’t understand what went wrong. He thought he was doing well, following orders, placating John’s annoying allies. Yet he can’t shake the sense that he’s done something wrong.

John is looking at him suspiciously, arms crossed. Eventually, the man breaks the silence.

“You’ve been acting strange these past few days. Tell me what’s going on.”

CatNap knows what the man is referring to, but is hesitant to admit it.

“I am only doing what you want me to do.”

The words do little to alleviate John’s concerns, the man’s face scrunching as if he had just tasted something sour.

“Since when do you care so much about what I want? I thought you were only interested in being entertained.”

“That was before. I see clearly now.”

“I don’t follow…”

That itch returns, parasites gnawing on the skin beneath. He needs to make John understand, to open his eyes. John is a flame, a guardian angel, and he needs him to realize that he’s worthy of devotion. CatNap takes one step forward.

“You are special.”

The message is clear. Realization, shock, dread, all of it passes through John’s expression, and CatNap is left feeling more confused as John gives him a look of devastation.

“This whole time you’ve been helping us—stopping the raid, the traps, agreeing to save the toys trapped in the underground—all of that was just to please me? You don’t care about making amends with the others, you just want to obey me, is that it?”

“I do not see what the issue is.”

John laughs. It’s bitter and sad.

“The issue is that this is fucked up.”

The man doesn’t get it. CatNap has walked this path before, he knows how it works, but John is new to this, he doesn’t understand that he is light and CatNap is nothing. He just has to make him understand. He has to convince him.

“You are confused. Do not be afraid. I will show you what it means to be sacred.”

CatNap moves forward, slow and purposeful, until John’s back hits the corner of the office near the doorway. John’s eyes are wide, nervous as he gazes up at CatNap’s towering form. What the man doesn’t understand is that he has nothing to fear. CatNap just needs to convince him that his devotion is correct. That this path is not only the right one, but the only one.

“Allow me to worship you. To serve. Then you will no longer need to worry about insignificant things. Your doubts, your concerns, they will be no longer. I will get rid of anything that gets in your way.”

It’s the truth. CatNap can and will do anything for him so long as it is within his power. He doesn’t even need to think about it. Tools do not think. All he needs is for the man to accept him.

John doesn’t respond, his expression tight, cautious. That won’t do. Perhaps he still needs some convincing. CatNap leans closer, not noticing the way John discreetly reaches for one of the abandoned spray bottles on the floor.

“You are already above everyone else. I can bring you closer to victory. Just let me serve you. Let me—"

Without warning, droplets of liquid are being sprayed into CatNap’s face. He flinches, taking a step back.

“I—”

John squirts the bottle again before CatNap can get the words out. His patience thins as he blocks his face from the liquid assault.

“Annoying little rat.”

“There you are.” John lowers the bottle, his expression softening. “Welcome back.”

Reality sinks in. He looks at the man, with tired eyes and old scars. A person.

CatNap realizes his mistake.

“…You are not God.”

“I’m not.”

The weight of his words falls heavily on his shoulders. CatNap’s gaze shifts to the bloody tears staining the floor before quickly looking away, his chest twisting.

“The Mu—DogDay is not well. You should tend to him.”

“I will.”

John looks back at him one last time, searching, then leaves the office.

Alone, CatNap reflects.

Everything leading up to this moment has been about him. His selfish need to fill the hole inside him. This obsession has led him to hurt people, and while he might not care about everyone, there are some people he thinks may deserve better treatment than what he’s been giving them.

He thinks of the doll, who treated his injuries despite her clear dislike of him.

He thinks of John, who tries and tries despite how tired he is.

He thinks of DogDay, his once best friend.

All these people are still alive, still hopeful, while CatNap does nothing but make their lives harder, for what reason, he isn’t sure anymore. The path he’s walked is old and tired, leading to nowhere.

Perhaps it is time to forge a new path.

As he considers this, CatNap finds himself wandering into The Schoolhouse. His ears flicker at the sound of someone moving around in one of the empty classrooms. He slowly approaches before peeking inside.

The pink one is there—Kissy? Yes, that’s her name—sweeping the floor with a broom and dustpan. She glances up, surprised by the unexpected visitor. CatNap scans the classroom. Most of the debris has been cleared, but there’s still much work to be done before it’s completely restored.

Without a word, CatNap leaves to the janitorial closet, then returns with a washrag and spray bottle.

He begins to clean the stains.

Chapter Text

John glances at the wall clock yet again, watching the seconds tick by incessantly. Everyone else has already arrived at the meeting: Poppy, Kissy, and DogDay. They’re only waiting for one more participant until they can begin. His finger taps restlessly against his leg, his other hand clutching the folded map a little too tightly. No one has said a word aside from their initial greeting, as if they're all holding their breaths, waiting for something to happen.

“He’ll be here any minute now,” John assures, to his friends or to himself, he’s not sure. The others appear uncertain, not that he blames them. After the shitshow that happened yesterday between CatNap and DogDay, he wouldn’t be surprised if CatNap changed his mind about helping them after all. John wouldn’t blame him, either.

As if on cue, the door to the security room slowly opens. His heart leaps, head swiveling towards the entrance along with everyone else’s.

CatNap looms within the doorway, his presence silent yet commanding all at once.  A feeling of relief sinks into John’s shoulders, a smile tugging at his lips before he realizes it.

“Hey, you made it,” John greets. “We were just about to go over the plan.”

CatNap nods once before ducking into the security room. His movements are slow, deliberate, but not like a predator stalking through the grass. No, it’s more conscientious, like he’s trying not to bump into anything or startle anyone. Soon he settles in the space between DogDay and Kissy. There’s tension in the air, as expected, but not as much as he anticipated. What surprises him is CatNap’s own behavior. For starters, CatNap isn’t looking at DogDay—in fact, he isn’t looking at anyone. His gaze is fixed to the floor, pensive, while his posture seems mostly relaxed, sitting upright with one knee bent, elbow resting on top.

It’s unusual, to say the least. Normally he’s observing, his posture straight and alert, ready to pounce at any given moment. A part of him wants to ask if he’s feeling alright, but now isn’t the right time. They have a mission to focus on.

“Alright, let’s get started.” John unfolds the map before placing it in the center of the floor. The others lean forward to get a closer look. It’s a layout of the prison facility underground with markings of important locations.

“So this is where the Safe Haven is located.” John points to an area on the map circled in red. He then hovers his finger down one of the routes. “Here is where I’ve outlined the quickest path to get there. Once the three of you arrive, you’re gonna pick up the survivors, then escort them to the elevator using the same path you came from.”

He brings his finger to multiple red exclamation marks drawn on the map.

“There’s a trap here, and another one here. You can try to avoid them, but you’ll have to sneak past Sawyer, which, to be honest, probably won’t happen. He has eyes everywhere, and I mean that literally.”

Poppy makes a noise of agreement.

“I agree with John. Sneaking is your least viable strategy; you’re better off confronting each obstacle directly rather than trying to avoid them. And plus, you have the advantage of being Bigger Bodies, making you comparatively stronger than most of the threats down there.”

John nods. “Exactly. Just be sure to look out for the red smoke. If either of you falls unconscious, it’s gonna be a lot harder to get you out.”

He pauses to take in everyone’s reactions so far. Kissy appears to be listening attentively from her corner. DogDay is quiet, but seems to be paying attention, as much as he’s able to after the mental breakdown he suffered yesterday, traces of exhaustion still written in his features.

John turns his attention to CatNap next.

His gaze is pointed straight at the map, scanning it thoroughly. No doubt he is taking this seriously. He wouldn’t be surprised if this were a familiar routine for him: plotting against the enemy, exploiting weaknesses, devising the most useful strategy. All useful skills for The Prototype’s right-hand man.

Without thinking about it, John opens his mouth.

“CatNap, any thoughts?”

All eyes shift to CatNap, seemingly just as curious to hear what the ex-commander thinks. CatNap does not react negatively to the attention. Instead, he seems to take it in stride, and with calmness, brings a pointed claw towards one of the exclamation marks on the map before tapping it.

“These traps. Tell me about them.”

John tries not to feel overly excited because holy crap he’s actually participating, is this a dream? and instead focuses on answering his question.

“This room with the prison cells has a bunch of Nightmare Critters hiding inside, waiting to ambush you. This other room automatically locks you inside, then tries to hinder you by dispensing red smoke.”

CatNap hums, retracting his claw.

“That won’t be an issue.”

The corner of John’s lips quirks upward.

“Ah, right, you’re immune to the red smoke. In that case, it should be easy enough for you to disable the gas dispensers.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Poppy warns. “There’s a good chance The Doctor has placed new traps since the time John went down there. Stay on your toes, and whatever you do, don’t get separated.”

CatNap doesn’t argue, merely nods his head once. It’s strange seeing him agree with something Poppy says.

“The survivors. How many?”

“There are at least a few dozen members left in The Resistance,” John answers.

“Their leader?”

“Doey. He’s a Bigger Body made of clay. You might have met him before—he seemed to recognize you, at least.”

CatNap’s body language is unreadable. Surprisingly, it’s DogDay who speaks next.

“Do they know about this plan? The survivors, I mean.”

“Doey is aware that we’re coming to get them,” Poppy answers. “We had a Mini Critter deliver the message. Are they all on board with leaving the Safe Haven, who knows? But if we don’t act now then they likely won’t get a second chance.”

The weight of her words does not go unnoticed. If this mission fails, The Resistance will perish. John hasn’t known Doey and his crew for very long, but he knows that if they die, it’ll haunt him along with all the rest of his failures.

DogDay appears to be thinking the same thing, his demeanor shifting from somber and passive, to something steely, resolved.

“I’m not losing any more friends,” DogDay declares. “We’ll bring them back. All of them.”

Kissy nods firmly. Meanwhile, CatNap silently looks at DogDay from the corner of his eyes. It’s subtle, but there’s a hint of something soft in his eyes, admiring. It’s gone as quickly as it came, CatNap shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“Well, John, I think we just about covered everything.” Poppy turns to him, a question in her gaze. “Unless you have anything else to add?”

John inhales deeply before standing up, taking in the sight of their team gathered together. Weeks ago he’d felt as if he were entirely alone. That whenever he fell, there would be no one to pick him up, and if he died, no one would be there to bury him. Maybe that was true then, but now things are different. He has them. And for once, he thinks, maybe, this is where he was meant to be.

“You all are survivors,” says John. “I know that for a fact. Look out for each other, and remember, we’re in this together. I want you all to return safely, okay? We’ll be waiting for you.”

After delivering those words of encouragement, the five of them head down towards the elevator. Anxiety crawls beneath John’s skin as he watches DogDay, Kissy, and CatNap prepare for their descent. He isn’t sure what’s going to happen with the three of them being left unsupervised. He almost considered calling off the mission after the incident that happened yesterday, but DogDay insisted on going once he calmed down enough. All he can do now is have faith in them.

“Good luck down there,” John tells them. Poppy is standing beside him, appearing uncharacteristically nervous as she watches them board the elevator.

“Please be careful,” Poppy calls out to them.

“Don’t worry about us,” assures DogDay, appearing optimistic despite the circumstances. “We’ll be back before you know it. Wouldn’t want Angel to stress out too much—we all know he’s a mother hen deep down.”

John huffs a laugh.

“You all make me sick.”

DogDay and Kissy proceed to climb onto the elevator, CatNap following not far behind. Poppy wraps her arms around herself, brows scrunching.

“On second thought, maybe I should go.”

“You can’t,” John replies. “Your patients need you, remember?”

“But what if something bad happens? If Kissy gets hurt and I’m not there…”

His chest clenches at the sound of distress in her voice. It’s unlike Poppy to show this much anxiety, but he also isn’t surprised that she’s worried about Kissy. After all, they’ve been side-by-side nearly this entire time. It’s understandable that she wouldn’t want to be far away from her best friend, especially not when said friend is about to enter dangerous territory.

Before he can come up with a reassuring response, CatNap’s voice appears.

“No one will fall.”

John and Poppy both look up in surprise. CatNap’s back is turned towards them, while DogDay and Kissy quietly converse on the further end of the elevator, oblivious to their discussion. He turns his head just slightly, enough that John can see a single glowing white iris aimed directly at them, and for the first time, he sees something new in CatNap’s gaze, something else besides the darkness and hunger: conviction.

“I will make sure of it.”

DogDay is reminded of how much he loathes the prison facility the moment the elevator reaches the bottom. He’s met with the sight of toy corpses stacked on top of each other like garbage heaps, the scent of decay invading his nostrils, making his stomach turn. It’s colder here than in Playcare, metal and concrete leaving no room for warmth in this manmade space. As they navigate through the entrance, he cautiously avoids stepping on anything unsavory. Something moves in one of the corpse piles, sending a chill down his spine. Whatever it was disappears as quickly as it came.

“How awful…” DogDay says, eyes roaming over the hundreds of dead bodies. At the very least, he can acknowledge their suffering, even if that’s all he has to offer. Kissy looks over her shoulder at him, sharing a solemn look. Further ahead, CatNap continues leading the way, eyes set on the main gates of the prison. He doesn’t so much as glance at the corpses.

“This way.”

His voice doesn’t sound impatient, as DogDay would have expected, but rather neutral. Without a word, DogDay and Kissy follow CatNap towards the end of the path.

It isn’t long before they reach the inner corridors, dim fluorescent lights flickering above them. The deeper they go, the colder the air seems to become, or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s difficult to tell what’s real and what’s not in a place like this; his memories all associate these rooms with fear and pain. An unnatural place that drains you of all hope. Even in its decrepit state, this place still intimidates him.

He hugs himself, both for warmth and comfort, as he continues to walk side by side with Kissy. While walking, his eyes drift towards CatNap, who's still leading ahead on two feet.

What happened yesterday is still fresh in his mind.

He had felt fear the moment CatNap caged him against that wall, his feet unable to move despite his instincts screaming at him to do so. In that moment, he was brought back to that room. All those feelings came rushing back to him—the confusion, the betrayal, the hopelessness—and suddenly the entire world seemed like it was caving in.

You deserve it.

Hearing those words made his heart break all over again. For a moment, he almost wished his eyes and legs were gone again, just so he could have an excuse for how helpless he felt. He couldn’t handle it. He ran away. Just when he thought he was done allowing CatNap to have power over him, he slipped and fell right back into his hands. The worst part? CatNap had barely done anything. He didn’t touch him, didn’t threaten him—he didn’t need to. All it took were a few words.

Maybe DogDay isn’t as strong as he thought he was.

His grip grows tighter on his arms, trying to ground himself. Kissy spares him a brief glance. Wordlessly, she moves a bit closer. Their arms brush every so often, and he can faintly feel her body heat as they walk side by side, chasing away the cold. It’s comforting, and he finds that he feels a little less alone.

They reach the room with the prison cells.

All three of them tread the room cautiously, looking around for any signs of a threat. It's quiet. Eerily so.

“Isn’t this where the first trap should be?” DogDay says.

As if on cue, something crawls out of a crevice, followed by another, then a dozen. Nightmare Critters come out from every direction, hungry and feral as they surround the three of them.

“Guess I spoke too soon…” DogDay keeps his eyes focused on the vicious plushies drawing nearer, the three of them standing back-to-back.

A low growl rumbles through Kissy, her fists raised and ready for a brawl. If DogDay weren’t so preoccupied with the danger approaching them, he would marvel at how quickly someone so shy can transform into aggression. On his other side, CatNap is alert, sharp eyes scanning over the crowd. His claws flex beside him, a sign of premeditated violence, like lightning getting ready to strike.

The Nightmare Critters lunge.

DogDay ducks out of the way swiftly, reflexes on high alert. Adrenaline pumps through him, but he isn’t afraid. This chaos is nothing new to him. He just needs to navigate it, to survive until he can figure out a solution.

While DogDay focuses on evading, Kissy and CatNap's movements are vicious. They tear through the Critters like they’re made of paper, blood spilling and bodies dropping carelessly to the floor. Neither of them are holding back, and as horrific as it is, DogDay can’t bring himself to feel bad about it, at least not as much as he thinks he should. In an ideal world, none of the people-turned-toys would have to suffer, and they would all be allowed to simply exist—no bloodshed, no starvation, just peace. But that world doesn’t exist, not yet. So he fights.

DogDay flings a mouse after it latches onto his arm. CatNap snatches a bat flying in the air and rips its wings. Kissy crushes a gator beneath her foot.

It's brutal, but necessary. They can’t afford to die here, not now. He swore he wasn’t going to lose anymore friends and he intends to keep that promise until his very last breath.

He looks up and sees another wave of Nightmare Critters climbing down the walls.

“It never ends,” says DogDay, dismayed. Kissy huffs in frustration while CatNap’s ear flickers, impatient. They’re wasting too much time here. If they don’t wrap this up soon, they might not make it to the survivors before their generator shuts down completely, thus leaving the Safe Haven vulnerable.

DogDay’s eyes drift towards the prison cells. A lightbulb appears.

“Here!” He rushes over to one of the prison doors, holding it open. “We can shut them in these rooms!”

Kissy and CatNap are both immediately on board with his plan. Now instead of dealing with them one by one, they attempt to group up and capture as many as they can. Kissy grabs a large slab of metal and proceeds to sweep multiple Critters into a cell right before DogDay promptly shuts the door. Meanwhile, CatNap works on manipulating them into groups, making it easier to sweep them up.

With their combined efforts, they manage to shut all of the remaining Critters into different cells, and just like that, the path is clear.

“We did it!” DogDay cheers, his body feeling energized, the thrill of coming out victorious during a heated battle rushing through him. He turns to Kissy, who's standing closest to him.

“Nice job, Kissy!”

He raises his hand for a high-five. Kissy lights up, then eagerly meets him halfway, her hand smacking against his.

Still riding the high of successful teamwork, DogDay turns towards CatNap, intending to congratulate him as well. However, CatNap’s already turned towards the exit, his finger raising to point in the direction they need to take.

“The path is clear. Let us continue.”

His optimism gradually fades, replaced with confusion and, oddly enough, disappointment. He brushes it off and continues forward, through the doorway leading deeper into the facility.

The hallways grow narrow, instilling a sense of claustrophobia within him. A pipe bursts and he nearly jumps out of his skin. There’s a near-constant feeling of being watched, but every time he turns his head, nothing is there. He glances at a blank security monitor perched somewhere above, unsettling in a way, as if he can sense an old threat hiding behind the screen.

At some point, DogDay hears a noise. He pauses shortly before Kissy does, both of them turning their attention to a hidden nook in the wall.

There’s a creature lying there about the size of a lion with rainbow-colored yarn for hair and giant pupils aimed at them. DogDay’s back straightens, on guard, but then he notices something: the creature isn't watching them. His eyes are following CatNap. Only then does DogDay make out the wounds he sees on the creature’s body, chunks of yarn missing where there should be, old blood on his fur, a long, jagged crack on his face resembling a fresh scar.

As CatNap passes by the nook, ignoring him, Yarnaby’s body trembles, shrinking further into his nook with a small whimper.

DogDay and Kissy exchange knowing looks.

They reach a dead end.

“I don’t understand.” DogDay stares up at the large, unnatural concrete wall blocking their path. “According to the map, there should be another hallway here, not a wall.”

CatNap places a paw against the wall, and for a moment, DogDay thinks he might try to break through it, as unpleasant as that sounds.

“A puzzle,” CatNap concludes. “We need the key.”

DogDay nods.

“Good thinking. Let’s look for an activation button, or a switch, maybe.”

The three of them begin their search, each looking in a separate area of the room. DogDay finds a corner filled with storage containers and begins carefully pushing them aside, eyes scanning for anything resembling a switch.

“Any luck yet?” DogDay calls out.

CatNap carelessly tears off a rules and regulations poster, finds nothing behind it, then replies.

“No.”

DogDay heaves a sigh.

“Me neither. Honestly, I think The Doctor is starting to run out of ideas. A wall of all things? Seems pretty desperate if you ask me.”

Despite the stress of the situation, DogDay somehow feels lighter now than he did earlier. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re hunting down a switch in order to open up a pathway, like a game. Is this how John felt solving puzzles all throughout the factory just to navigate? He’ll have to ask him about it once they return to Playcare.

DogDay grunts as he pushes aside another storage box before stopping to rest.

Then he sees it: a conveniently placed lever sticking out of the wall.

There are also red arrows pointing directly at the lever. Odd. Perhaps a friendly person came along and decided to make their search easier.

“Hey guys, I think I found it!”

He doesn’t wait for a response from the others before pulling the lever.

Nothing happens.

He frowns. Is this not the answer?

“Huh, that’s strange. I thought—”

Something cracks above him.

Then suddenly, the ceiling breaks.

Before he can react, a pair of arms wraps around his torso, yanking him away right before the ceiling could collapse on top of him. A cloud of dust bursts into the air, briefly engulfing him and whoever grabbed him. He coughs, throat burning. Once the dust settles, a pile of debris is revealed where he once stood.

He looks down at the furry, purple arms locked around him.

Awareness sinks in, and at the same time, his mind is blank.

Then CatNap abruptly lets go of him and steps away.

DogDay is too stunned to move at first. All he can think about is the warmth he felt against his back, the subtle smell of lavender that surrounded him for a brief moment. He could feel CatNap breathing, and thought, just maybe, he felt his heart beating faster than normal. The way he held DogDay, arms locked tight, like he was worried he’d disappear.

He finally turns to look at CatNap, perhaps waiting for some sort of explanation. But CatNap isn’t looking at him, in fact, he’s already walking away, as if nothing happened.

DogDay is at a loss for words.

Shortly after that, Kissy finds the actual switch and proceeds to pull it. The wall blocking their path finally opens.

They continue forward.

It isn’t long before they reach the Safe Haven according to the map. As they traverse through another long hallway, DogDay contemplates what happened earlier.

His eyes drift towards CatNap, who’s still leading up ahead.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. He hasn’t spoken much since yesterday, and now, he’s hardly looking at him at all. At first, DogDay assumes CatNap is ignoring him, but he hasn’t been outwardly cold since the mission began, and he gets the sense that CatNap isn’t angry with him. Focused, maybe.

DogDay doesn’t know if he should speak to him. After all, it never seems to end well when he does.

He fidgets with his fingers, conflicted.

Maybe he should just approach him. If CatNap doesn’t want to be bothered, then he’ll leave him alone, otherwise, maybe they can talk. At the very least, he could thank him for saving his life.

DogDay takes a deep breath, summoning his courage, before speeding up his steps. He tries to ignore the quick beating of his heart, the anxious voice in his head that insists he’s setting himself up for failure. About halfway there, he notices one of CatNap’s pointy ears flickers, alerted to his presence. Wordlessly, CatNap’s steps slow down, an invitation. It’s a small gesture, but still, it eases the tightness in DogDay’s chest just a bit.

DogDay reaches CatNap, the two of them walking side by side. There’s distance between them, unlike with Kissy. It’s probably for the best. As cold as this place is, he doesn’t feel safe leaning towards CatNap, not after everything that happened.

But it doesn’t hurt to talk.

“Thank you,” says DogDay. “For uh, saving me back there. Guess I should have been more careful.”

This is weird. He shouldn’t have said anything; it’s not like they’re friends. CatNap’s gonna get annoyed, maybe taunt him or ignore him depending on what mood he’s in, and DogDay’s gonna feel like an idiot for trying to be cordial despite their bad relationship.

But CatNap doesn’t do that. Instead, he glances at DogDay, and for once, his gaze doesn’t feel so sharp, so burning the way it usually does.

“It’s fine.” Then, as an afterthought, “…You’re welcome.”

The words catch DogDay off guard. Is he being… nice? On purpose? He must be. Besides, he doesn’t remember the last time CatNap spoke so politely, especially not to him. Something’s changed.

DogDay’s muscles relax a bit.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? All of—this.”

He waves his hand, gesturing vaguely. CatNap watches him from the corner of his eyes, curious.

“Just feels like so much has happened. Now here we are. Funny how that works.”

He thinks his words might not be making any sense. His body seems to be operating on its own, trying to formulate thoughts and failing to do so. Embarrassment creeps in, and for a moment, he begins to second-guess himself. CatNap is still watching him, listening. Then his eyes shift forward again.

“A lot has changed.”

“Exactly. Seems like forever ago when we were helping care for the orphans in Playcare.”

DogDay isn’t sure if it’s the calmness of the atmosphere, or the fact that CatNap is being more responsive than usual, but he feels the urge to reminisce.

“I remember that time we had a sleepover, you, me, and the other Smiling Critters. We made that big tent and filled it with lights and pillows. Gosh, what a fun night that was. Just hanging out, not worrying about anything…”

CatNap makes a small noise of affirmation. An almost melancholic air seems to surround him, something somber yet nostalgic within his demeanor.

Something in DogDay’s chest loosens, the words coming out easier.

“I can’t believe Picky actually bribed the suppliers into giving her popcorn and ice cream that night. Can you imagine trying to negotiate with an employee? Only Picky can pull that off. It’s kind of admirable if you think about it.”

“Candy.”

“Hm?”

“She brought popcorn and candy. No ice cream.”

DogDay considers it, eyes trailing up to the ceiling, fluorescent lights hanging above.

“You may be right. It’s hard to remember the details after all this time. I just know I felt happy that night. In fact, I think it might have been the best night I ever had.”

CatNap doesn’t respond right away, eyes fixed to the ground. When he does reply, his voice is small, barely audible.

“…Me too.”

The moment feels incredibly vulnerable, and DogDay thinks, maybe, this is what progress looks like.

There’s a lull in the conversation. At some point, Kissy begins walking ahead, likely to give them some space. He can’t help but think how strange it is that he and CatNap can go from bickering and arguing one day to whatever this is. Not peace, not exactly, but not hostility, either. He imagines a door has finally cracked open, but he isn’t sure if he’s prepared for what’s on the other side. At least he can appreciate this non-hostile moment for what it is.

It’s inevitable when his thoughts begin to turn for the worse.

Memories of their friendship fades away, and in their place comes the fresher, more haunting ones. The way CatNap caged him against the wall yesterday as he delivered those cruel words. It reminds him of being in that room where his sight was stolen, casting him into eternal darkness.

He wants to forget.

But he can’t.

DogDay wraps his arms around himself, trying to suppress the anxiety he feels rising within him. He’s speaking before he realizes it.

“Did you really mean it? What you said yesterday.”

He can sense CatNap stiffen beside him. DogDay continues.

“Do you think I deserved what happened? That it’s my fault?”

He isn’t sure why he’s asking CatNap this, what he’s looking for. But he has to know.

CatNap’s response isn’t what he expects. He doesn’t cock his head, doesn’t look at him as if the answer should be obvious. There’s no smugness, no anger, not even indifference. When DogDay glances towards his side, he finds that CatNap isn’t looking at him, his gaze having fallen to the ground. His paws are clenched by his side, and DogDay swears that for a moment, he hears his breath coming out unevenly.

“No.”

A short response. DogDay should feel reassured. He doesn’t. If anything, his chest feels raw, like an open wound festering within itself. It hurts too badly to ignore.

“You know, sometimes I feel like you might be right about me. About how foolish I am.”

“I should not have said that.”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you for feeling the way you feel. I let everyone down. Bobby, Kickin, Hoppy—all of them. I tried to be a good leader, but to be honest, I never really knew what I was doing. I was just trying to keep the peace, you know? I wanted everyone to be happy.”

“You did what you could.”

“You say that, but I think there’s a reason you don’t like me.”

“DogDay—”

“It’s okay.”

DogDay stops walking, as does CatNap. They meet each other’s gaze. DogDay can feel himself starting to lose his composure, that familiar self-deprecation rearing its ugly head once again. He can’t bring himself to stop it, though, not when CatNap’s right there, his once best friend who smells like lavender and remembers small details about their shared past, like candy instead of ice cream.

“I get it. I was the one in charge, but the truth is, none of us were happy. Not really. You weren’t happy, and I could tell it was only getting worse day after day. You needed help, but I was too afraid of losing what little we had.”

DogDay grabs his arms tighter, almost painfully as he hugs himself.

“I failed to protect everyone. It’s no wonder you hate me.”

“I do not hate you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

DogDay looks away, unable to maintain his gaze. He’s shaking, to his dismay, and tries to focus on calming down lest he has another episode like yesterday. He misses the way CatNap’s paw twitches by his side, as if debating whether to reach out to DogDay, before ultimately deciding against it.

There’s a heavy silence between them for a few seconds.

When CatNap speaks again, his voice is careful.

“I was wrong.” Then, as an afterthought, “I am sorry.”

DogDay lets the apology sink in, his eyes trained on a small hole in the wall. The words sound more sincere than yesterday. The imaginary door cracks open even wider. The shaking subsides, but he’s still tense, still bitter as he thinks about what it felt like to be tortured and ridiculed.

“You hurt me really badly.”

“…I know.”

“I should be angry at you. I am angry.”

“I know.”

There’s no particularly strong emotion in CatNap’s voice, just acknowledgment. DogDay doesn’t realize how badly he needed that—to be acknowledged. It feels so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh.

“This is all so confusing.”

CatNap’s expression softens slightly, a hint of amusement.

“It is.”

At least that’s one thing they can agree on.

This doesn’t fix everything, not quite. But it’s a start, and for that, DogDay feels hopeful.

He takes a deep breath, having come to a decision.

“I think I—"

His words are interrupted by an animalistic shriek up ahead. DogDay and CatNap both whip their heads, recognizing.

“Kissy!” DogDay shouts.

Wasting no time, DogDay and CatNap rush down the end of the corridor.

What they find is alarming.

Kissy’s body is dangling upside down from the ceiling, her foot caught in a chain. An incinerator is directly below her, flames flickering strongly from the pit and threatening to burn. Dread fills DogDay as he realizes that Kissy is stuck.

A monitor hanging from the wall flickers to life.

A single eyeball appears.

“Now isn’t this interesting,” The Doctor drawls. “Experiment 1175 and 1188 are both standing before me. Quite a peculiar pair if I do say so. To think they would work together now after ten years of being enemies. Perhaps they are trying to relive the old days.”

A cold feeling floods through DogDay, the presence of The Doctor dredging up bad memories and old fears. He pushes it down, determined despite the intimidation.

“Let Kissy go,” DogDay demands.

The Doctor laughs, voice warped and staticky.

“Cute. Speaking as if you have even an ounce of authority here. Don’t be mistaken, 1175. You were assigned as Leader only to keep the other experiments pacified, but that title is meaningless here. You are nothing more than a piece on my chessboard, one I no longer find useful.”

Kissy is growling and thrashing as she tries to escape the chain keeping her tethered to the ceiling. DogDay’s expression is stern as he gazes back at the monitor.

“I don’t care what you think about me.”

“Oh, but you do. You care what everyone thinks about you, especially 1188. So desperate for approval that you come crawling back to him even after he tore your limbs apart. If I had known you were this pathetic, perhaps I would have assigned him as the Leader instead. Clearly he has more power than you do.”

DogDay chooses to ignore The Doctor, instead focusing on Kissy as she struggles to escape the chain. He rushes over to the incinerator, CatNap quickly following behind him.

“Don’t worry, Kissy, we’re gonna get you out of here!”

He looks around, scrambling to find something to rescue Kissy with. The incinerator is still open, but maybe he can close it. A switch.

There’s no time to locate the switch before he hears the familiar sound of feral toys creeping around the corner. When he turns around, he sees them—a horde of Nightmare Critters, Mini Huggies, and more approaching from down the hall, crawling from the vents in the walls, from the holes in the floor—everywhere.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” The Doctor says.

DogDay’s stomach drops as the horde comes closer. There’s too many of them, and Kissy is currently disabled, leaving just two people to defend against the horde.

CatNap moves to stand in front of DogDay, claws poised and ready to attack. He doesn’t look afraid.

“Find the switch,” CatNap tells DogDay simply, eyes locked on the approaching toys. “I will guard you.”

A lot has happened between him and CatNap, things that have severely damaged their relationship, but in this moment, DogDay trusts him.

While DogDay hastily begins looking for the switch to close the incinerator, CatNap covers him, slicing through any toy who dares to get close. He searches high and low, looking for that distinct lever while simultaneously avoiding the threats crawling nearby.

A Mini Huggy launches itself at him from the wall, and DogDay narrowly avoids it by jerking backwards, nearly stumbling into the pit of fire below. He catches himself, heart racing, and continues his search.

“Your fate is inevitable,” The Doctor taunts as he observes the madness with cruel amusement. “Give up now, and perhaps I’ll consider sparing your lives.”

Liar. Fueled by determination and spite, DogDay ducks beneath a flying drone right before CatNap smacks it, sending it hurtling down into the incinerator.

He finally spots the switch sticking out from the wall, too high to reach. His stomach sinks. If John were here, he’d use a Grapback Hand to pull the switch, but sadly neither John nor a Grabpack is available.

His eyes fall to a lone chain dangling from the wall near the switch.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, then leaps towards it.

He grasps the chain tightly, holding himself up in the air. The flames of the incinerator lick at his feet threateningly. He doesn’t look down, focusing all of his strength into pulling himself up the chain, rope climbing.

It’s difficult, his strength not quite what it used to be. He can feel his muscles straining from the excess use. A gang of screeching bats comes swarming around him, biting at him, and he nearly loses his footing, falling down the chain briefly before clutching it again.

Something hurls at one of the bats from below, hitting them directly before their body falls into the incinerator. DogDay doesn’t question it and continues climbing while another bat gets shot down, then another.

Finally, he reaches the switch.

He extends his arm, fingertips brushing the lever.

“Come on, come on…”

More flying creatures are approaching him, seemingly trying to stop him from pulling the lever. CatNap is below, hurling what appears to be corpses at the airborne toys while still trying to fend off the rest of the horde. The pressure is nearly overwhelming as death gets increasingly closer.

With a burst of energy, DogDay swings himself to the lever and grasps it.

He pulls.

A mechanical groan fills the air as a metal hatch slowly closes above the incinerator. The moment it’s fully closed, DogDay loses the last of his grip, his hand letting go of the chain.

Fear pummels through him as his body falls towards the ground.

Before he can feel the impact, a pair of arms catches him midair.

CatNap lands safely on the ground, DogDay in his arms.

The room goes still.

DogDay is clutching onto CatNap, both of them panting as they catch their breath. A thought occurs that there could still be danger around, but when he looks up, he sees that the horde has disappeared. It appears the remaining toys have fled, having likely realized that they weren’t going to succeed once the incinerator closed.

They’re safe.

CatNap carefully lowers DogDay back to the ground, to which he responds with a quiet thanks. The feline then turns to the chain still linked to Kissy’s foot, then, with one powerful swipe, breaks the link. He catches Kissy before she can hit the ground, then proceeds to lower her to her feet. Kissy still seems stressed, but appears thankful now that she’s back on the ground.

They aren’t able to celebrate their victory as The Doctor’s voice appears once more in the speakers, displeased.

“I should have known you would interfere, 1188. You seem to have a knack for getting in the way of my plans. What you did to my Yarnaby was uncalled for, by the way.”

CatNap ignores him as he scans the room, double-checking for any more surprises. By now, his fur is covered in patches of blood, primarily on his paws, making him appear more like a wild animal.  

“I wonder what your precious God would think knowing you betrayed him,” The Doctor continues. “After everything The Prototype did for you, this is how you repay him. Ungrateful pest.”

DogDay feels a mixture of anger and disgust from The Doctor’s manipulative words. He prepares to tell him off, but then The Doctor says something that makes his heart drop.

“Those poor children.”

CatNap freezes. A thick tension appears in the air, and DogDay can feel his stomach twist uncomfortably, knowing exactly what poisonous words The Doctor has prepared on his tongue.

“You remember them, don’t you? There was that little girl—a smart one, that child. Then there was that obnoxious brat who couldn’t sit still. There was a third one as well, let’s see… oh yes, the crybaby who couldn’t let go of that raggedy blanket.”

CatNap doesn’t respond, his body unmoving. Kissy is watching him, concern in her gaze.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t save them. They screamed for you, you know.”

“Ignore him,” DogDay tells CatNap, trying to rein in his own emotions as The Doctor provokes them. “He’s just trying to get in your head.”

Kissy nods in agreement. Still, CatNap doesn’t speak, doesn’t twitch, doesn’t show any indication that he heard them. He’s just standing there.

“They died so quickly, too.” The Doctor speaks in a repulsively casual tone as he continues. “They might have shown potential had they survived the experiments. Even the crybaby demonstrated some unexpected resilience up until the very end. What a waste.”

“Alright, that’s enough—”

“You will only cause suffering to those around you,” The Doctor interrupts DogDay, his voice filled with resentment. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t escape what you were created to be: a monster. I’ll enjoy taking you apart just like those brats—"

CatNap’s fist punches straight through the monitor, breaking the screen.

A heavy silence fills the room.

DogDay’s chest aches as he watches CatNap stand there for a moment, back turned, pieces of glass stabbing his paw, which is still embedded in the monitor. He remembers the day CatNap lost those three orphans. It was the first time he’d seen CatNap truly break down. He remembers holding him, the twisted sound of his sobs, the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath as bloody tears ran from his sockets nonstop.

DogDay fidgets with his fingers, struck with the urge to hold him again. He’s not sure if CatNap would want that.

“Are you okay?” DogDay tries.

CatNap doesn’t reply. Kissy watches CatNap sadly, rubbing her arm.

After a moment, CatNap slowly retracts his paw from the broken monitor.

“Let’s continue.”

Neither DogDay nor Kissy argues.

They continue forward, leaving the death and destruction behind them.

They’re nearing the end of the first half of the mission. Up ahead, DogDay can see bright lights, a sign that they’re getting closer to their destination.

“The Safe Haven should be right over here,” DogDay says, a mix of hope and relief filling him. “Come on, gang, we’re almost there.”

As DogDay hurries ahead, CatNap and Kissy quickly follow behind him.

He reaches the end of the hall and turns a corner—

—only to bump into something soft and squishy.

“Oof!”

He nearly falls backwards, but before he can hit the ground, a pair of stretchy arms catches him.

“Careful there, pal! Wouldn’t want you getting hurt!”

The voice is warm, playful, and most importantly, familiar. DogDay looks up and is met with a friendly face made of dough.

“Doey!” DogDay exclaims, his tail wagging. “It’s so good to see you!”

Doey laughs and proceeds to wrap DogDay in a near-crushing hug.

“It’s been ages! Boy am I glad to see you again. How have you been?”

“Still hanging in there, friend.”

“Thank goodness for that. I thought we lost you after you got captured.”

Doey holds on a little longer before releasing DogDay. It’s then that Kissy arrives at the scene, followed by CatNap. Doey turns his attention to them, his face lighting up a second time.

“Kissy! I was told you were coming here, too. It’s been too long! The folks in the Safe Haven miss your artistic skills.”

Kissy appears bashful at that, waving a hand as if to downplay her own skills. Doey laughs joyfully, the sound infectious, and DogDay can’t help but feel warmer inside.

“Poppy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were on your way to rescue us,” says Doey. “I almost couldn’t believe it. Our generator has just about reached the end of its life, and here you all show up like a miracle on our doorstep.”

“You all have been trapped down here for far too long,” DogDay replies. “This rescue has been long overdue. Hurry, let’s gather the others and head to the elevator.”

Doey winces, scratching the back of his head.

“Right, there’s just one problem. Not everyone is convinced they want to go.”

DogDay stares at him in shock.

“What? Why? Don’t they realize this place isn’t safe for them?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them. Some of them seem to be in denial that the generator is failing. You have to understand, the Safe Haven has been their only home for years. They’re terrified to leave it behind, to face whatever might be out here.”

DogDay and Kissy exchange worried looks.

“We have to convince them,” says DogDay. “They’ll die if they stay down here.”

“I know.” Doey’s expression is tired, as if that’s all he’s been thinking about for days. “I’m hoping that if they see you in person, it will be enough to confirm the reality of the situation. If not, well—I’m not sure what else to do. I don’t want to leave any of my family behind.”

“We won’t. Don’t worry, friend, we’ll figure it out.”

Doey gives DogDay a look of appreciation.

Then his eyes shift to CatNap, who’s standing behind him, and his expression hardens.

“You.”

DogDay’s shoulders stiffen as he feels the tension growing in the air. In a few strides, Doey is standing right in front of CatNap, his neck elongated to meet his height. The look Doey is giving CatNap is cold, hostile, nothing like the warm welcome he gave DogDay and Kissy. CatNap doesn’t flinch as Doey invades his space, looking him straight in the eye as he’s confronted by the dough man.

This isn’t good.

When Doey speaks again, his voice is disturbingly calm.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Chapter Text

CatNap doesn’t break eye contact as Doey stands face-to-face, staring him down.

It isn't the first time CatNap's been challenged. Many have failed in their efforts to stand against him, but he knows a threat when he sees one, and he isn’t foolish enough to underestimate the creature made of dough. The possibility that CatNap will die here does not escape him.

Even so, he isn't afraid. Death does not frighten him.

“W-wait,” DogDay’s voice cuts through the tense silence as he nervously approaches, attempting to placate the hostile dough man. "You don't understand. CatNap's on our side. He volunteered to help us bring you and your family to safety."

"That's strange, considering what he's done in the past,” Doey replies, his frown unchanging as his fists move to rest on his hips. He steps closer to CatNap, ignoring DogDay’s small protest, before speaking directly to him.

"You might not be directly responsible for the deaths of the Smiling Critters, but you've killed plenty of my other friends. Murdered them in cold blood, one might say.”

There’s an edge to his voice, words calculated, testing him. CatNap is careful not to react. He isn’t looking for a fight, nor does he wish to defend his case.

But he does listen. It feels necessary.

At his lack of a verbal or physical response, Doey takes another step closer, as if daring CatNap to make a move. This close, CatNap faintly detects the smell of damp earth coming from the dough man, not unpleasant, just noticeable.

“Why should I believe that you've suddenly had a change of heart?" Doey says, concave eyes searing through him, searching.

There’s a tense moment where no one else speaks. CatNap considers Doey, absorbing his anger and disdain, letting it sink through his flesh and into his soul. It isn’t remorse that he feels, but understanding.

“Believe what you want."

Doey’s expression remains unmoving. He tilts his head slightly.

“You still working for The Prototype?”

A bold question, but not unexpected. CatNap’s gaze drifts from Doey to something faraway.

“I am of no use to him anymore.”

The confession feels painful, as if saying it out loud somehow makes it more real. The Prototype has been his source of guidance for years. Now he must come to terms with the fact that he can no longer rely on The Prototype. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and despite knowing that it’s his fault, that he chose to walk this new road following his failure, it doesn’t erase the aching hollowness that comes from being abandoned.

Doey is silent, eyes narrowing as he watches CatNap.

Then all at once, his face brightens.

“Well why didn’t you say so, pal?”

Like a balloon deflating, the tension dissipates. DogDay heaves a sigh of relief, his hand pressed against his chest. Beside him, Kissy offers CatNap two supportive thumbs up, approving the fact that he deescalated the situation, even if all he did was stand there and tell the truth.

He has a feeling Doey’s grudge has not fully been resolved, but for now at least, he appears to be putting it aside.

Doey steps away from CatNap, his head retracting as he reduces to his normal height.

“That’s enough dilly-dallying! If we’re lucky, we can convince the others to leave this place before The Prototype realizes we’re gone. Now follow me, everyone!”

With a dramatic turn, Doey marches in the direction of the Safe Haven. CatNap waits for DogDay and Kissy to follow before trailing behind them, ensuring their backs are covered while Doey leads the way.

“So how’s John?” Doey says conversationally. “Poor guy was looking a little rough back when we first met. Did the medical supplies help at least?”

“Absolutely,” DogDay replies. “He’s recovered a lot since his trip down here. You’ll see for yourself soon.”

“That’s good to hear. Though I am surprised he didn’t join you all on this rescue mission. Not that I blame him for not wanting to return to this awful place.”

“It’s not that. He lost his Grabpack as he was trying to return to the elevator. He isn’t able to get around safely without it.”

“Is that so? Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I actually came across his Grabpack not long after he left. Been meaning to return it to him as soon as I had the opportunity. I’ve got it tucked away in the storage room at the Safe Haven.”

“That’s great news! He’ll be pleased to have it back, I’m sure. Thank you for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it. The way I see it, we’re all in this together. Heck, you’re all risking your lives just to save ours. Least I can do is a small favor.”

They reach the Safe Haven.

CatNap elects to wait outside while Doey, DogDay, and Kissy announce themselves to the survivors. His back leans against a wall near the doorway, one knee bent and arms crossed over his chest. His ears hone in on the sounds coming from within the Safe Haven, listening attentively.

“Attention, everyone!” Doey’s voice booms.

The idle chatter ceases. Doey continues to speak.

“I’m sure most of you recognize our friends, Kissy Missy and DogDay. They’re here to help us reach the surface where our good friend John Walker is, the same person who’s been providing us with food as of late.”

Whispers fill the room.

“DogDay’s alive?”

“No way, I thought he…”

“Did he say ‘John Walker’? Isn’t that the guy who killed Huggy and…”

“I’m so glad Kissy’s okay…”

“Are they really here to save us?”

Doey clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

“We have someone else joining us today. He’s here to protect you all on our way to the surface. Though his identity may come as a shock, I ask that you all please remain calm and do not panic. John personally sent these guys to help us; you have no reason to fear either of them.”

Confused murmurs spread across the room. Doey’s head pops out of the doorway, eyes landing on CatNap.

“You’re up, pal.”

His head disappears back into the Safe Haven. CatNap pushes himself off the wall, already anticipating the negative reaction that will inevitably come once he reveals himself.

He ducks through the doorway, entering the Safe Haven.

It’s warmer in the enclosed space than the rest of the factory, splashes of color found all around the room. Doey is standing nearby, as is DogDay and Kissy. Before them is a crowd full of several dozen smaller toys, including Mini Critters more intelligent than his own minions, as indicated by them speaking and standing on two legs rather than four.

There’s a collective gasp, fear spreading across the room the moment they lay eyes on CatNap.

“I-is that…?”

“The Prototype’s priest…”

“He’s here to kill us all!”

Panic seizes the smaller toys. A few of them run around helplessly, others immediately duck into hiding, and the rest are paralyzed. DogDay steps forward—he’s always the first to step forward, even when CatNap doesn’t deserve it—and tries to calm the panicking crowd.

“I promise he isn’t here to kill you,” DogDay tries. “He’s only here to help. You have to believe us.”

To his left, Kissy nods her head firmly in agreement. The crowd of toys appears less than convinced, watching CatNap with wide-eyed wariness. One of them, a Mini Bubba Bubbaphant, peaks out from behind a barrel, pointing at DogDay accusatorily.

“H-how do we know you aren’t brainwashed?”

DogDay appears caught off guard by that.

“What? Of course I’m not brainwashed.”

“But you were captured by him.” A Mini Hoppy Hopscotch peeks out from behind a counter and points at CatNap. “Gone for months without a trace. That’s plenty of time for him to break your mind.”

A murmur of agreement spreads across the room. DogDay scratches the back of his head, obviously not expecting to be met with such accusations.

“How can my mind be broken if I’m standing here talking to you all?” DogDay reasons. Another murmur of agreement.

“Maybe it’s a trick,” Mini Bubba counters. “He could have threatened to hurt you unless you do what he says.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“So he didn’t torture you?”

“No—well, okay, yes, he did do that, but—”

A horrified gasp. The crowd falls into a panic yet again. CatNap is, for the most part, indifferent to the chaos happening before him. He knew they’d be afraid of him. What happens next will be determined by their own willpower, whether they have the courage to look past their fears, or if they’ll succumb to darkness.

Doey steps forward, his demeanor calm and authoritative, a stark contrast to the playfulness and cold anger he displayed earlier.

“It doesn’t matter what happened in the past,” says Doey. “Our priority is getting everyone to safety, but in order to do that, we need to leave.”

“Can’t we just repair the generator?” someone voices.

“We don’t have the parts.”

“We could scout for some,” says another. “We’ve done it before, I’m sure we can manage again.”

“There’s no time.”

Despite their leader’s insistence that they aren’t safe, the survivors are still unaccepting. They continue trying to bargain, to reject their reality.

“This is crazy,” Mini Hoppy says. “You can’t seriously expect us to trust this, Doey. To trust him.”

Doey sighs as he rubs the nonexistent bridge of his nose.

“Look, we really need to get going before—"

An electrical sound whirs throughout the Safe Haven before suddenly, the lights shut off.

There’s a gasp followed by a dead silence.

No one moves.

Seconds later, the lights flicker back to life.

They’re running out of time.

CatNap faces the survivors before finally speaking.

“Come with us, or stay here and perish. The choice is yours.”

The words fall heavily on the crowd. For a moment, no one moves, toys glancing at each other with equal looks of uncertainty.

Then, a small toy hesitantly steps forward.

Then another.

And another.

Soon, all of the toys come forward, gathering before him. CatNap feels something close to approval. It appears they won’t succumb after all.

“We’ll follow your lead,” DogDay says to him. “Just tell us where you need us.”

Doey, having briefly disappeared at some point while the survivors were coming forward, returns with a Grabpack in his arms.

“Ready when you are!”

CatNap surveys them all, taking in the scene before him. Dozens of faces gaze back at him, small glimmers of hope in a sea of uncertainty. Once upon a time, he would have devoured them, erasing all traces of light in the name of his savior.

But he isn’t walking that path anymore.

Instead, he will lead them towards salvation.

The atmosphere is charged as they journey back towards the elevator. CatNap is at the front of the group, eyes constantly scanning for potential threats as he leads the way. Behind him, the survivors are huddled together, following along while DogDay and Kissy flank them on both sides. At the very back of the group is Doey, covering in case anything sneaks up behind.

He isn’t sure how long this peace will last. Either way, he refuses to let down his guard, not until they’ve reached their destination.

The others appear to be doing the same, each of them seemingly holding their breaths, as if waiting for something to happen.

CatNap steps into an open area, recognizing it vaguely as the same place he fought the yarn creature. As they reach halfway through the room, his feet abruptly stop.

He hears something.

“What is it?” DogDay whispers anxiously.

“Something is here.”

CatNap scans the area. The ceilings are too high to make out what’s there, but it doesn’t seem like that’s where the noise is coming from.

He motions for the rest of the group to stay put, then proceeds to follow the sound. As he gets closer, he recognizes a ticking noise coming from behind a large metal crane. He reaches the machine before examining its other side.

His eyes land on a device taped to the exterior.

Dynamite.

It’s counting down.

CatNap stiffens. He whips his head back towards the group before giving a single direct order.

“Run.”

The group immediately turns around, attempting to run back where they came from.

They’re interrupted as a giant metal cage falls straight from the ceiling, trapping them in an instant. Shouts of alarm ring out from the survivors. CatNap tries to move towards them, but is cut off as another cage falls on top of him, keeping him in place.

His paws barely fit through as he attempts to pry open the bars. It doesn’t budge, and the bars themselves are too close together to slip through.

They’re trapped.

The Doctor’s voice appears like a haunting echo through the speaker system.

“Stubborn little insects, crawling around my domain. You should have stayed in hiding. Now each of you will be exterminated.”

A cruel laugh echoes around them. The survivors begin to panic, trembling and cowering in fear. DogDay is attempting to calm them, while Kissy is growling and banging at the cage from the inside, trying in vain to break it open.

Meanwhile, Doey takes one look at the surrounding cage before casually morphing his clay-made body, slipping through the bars with ease.

He shoots his hand towards CatNap’s cage and grips the iron bar before pulling himself towards the crane.

With mere seconds left, Doey yanks the dynamite and hurls it high towards the ceiling.

An explosion booms overhead.

Everyone ducks as the room shakes violently, rocks crumbling from the ceiling. CatNap hisses as he feels heat tinging his back, ears ringing from the loud noise.

He quickly shakes it off and uncovers his head, eyes darting towards the other cage.

The others groan as they rise up from the ground, disoriented, but otherwise uninjured. Meanwhile, Doey has already recovered and is now climbing on top of the crane. Once he’s at the top, he shoots both hands down towards CatNap’s cage and attempts to lift it.

“Help me out, will ya’, bud?” Doey grunts. CatNap quickly lowers himself onto his back, then plants his feet against the top of the cage. With the strength of his legs, he pushes at the same time Doey pulls.

They manage to lift the cage before it topples over.

Now free, CatNap and Doey rush over to the other cage and proceed to lift it from the outside while DogDay and Kissy lift from the inside. The survivors scramble out the moment they’re able to, and soon enough, DogDay and Kissy are free as well.

“What now?” DogDay appears shaken up, but is holding it together surprisingly well.

“We keep moving.”

“Watch your step,” says Doey. “I doubt the doc is finished with us just yet, and it would really suck if we got blown to bits.”

Kissy makes a noise of agreement.

They continue to move through the corridors, this time with more haste. They’re nearing the end. One more hallway and they’ll have reached the entrance to the prison facility.

Halfway through the hallway, they’re met with several sticks of dynamite taped to the floor and walls.

CatNap halts, prompting the others behind him to do the same.

He considers taking an alternate route until his ears perk, the sound of an oncoming horde of feral toys approaching from where they came.

A monitor flickers to life, a single eye appearing on the screen.

“I won’t let you leave,” The Doctor says, his voice sounding angry, having lost his composure. He can sense the fear growing within the survivors, the sounds of feral toys growing nearer while the time bombs tick threateningly up ahead.

CatNap’s mind buzzes as he tries to formulate a plan. There are a couple of minutes left on the dynamite—that’s plenty of time for them to run past before they detonate. He’s about to give the order, but before he can, Doey moves past him, preparing to get rid of the dynamite like he did previously.

“Don’t worry, guys! I’ll take care of—grrk!”

Liquid nitrogen shoots from a large pipe, hitting Doey directly. His clay body freezes almost instantly, rendering him immobile.

“Doey!” DogDay scrambles towards Doey as he searches for a lever to deactivate the nitrogen. CatNap glances at the time bombs. 1 minute and 45 seconds.

He turns towards the survivors, alarmed by the sight of their leader frozen.

“Go.”

They don’t question his command as they proceed to rush towards the end of the hall. CatNap turns back towards the other end of the hall, where the horde of feral toys is growing closer. If he fends them off, he can buy time for DogDay to finish rescuing Doey. His senses heighten, claws flexing by his side.

He hears a shift and looks to see Kissy standing beside him, poised and ready to fight. A small, strange warmth appears in his chest. He doesn’t linger on it for too long, refocusing his attention on the danger approaching them.

1 minute and 27 seconds.

CatNap slashes yet another body, blood spraying across the wall.

1 minute and 15 seconds.

Sharp teeth sink into the back of his shoulder. Kissy smacks the assaulting toy off. He doesn’t have time to thank her before another wave of teeth and claws pounces at them.

57 seconds.

Kissy’s movements begin to lag with fatigue. She stumbles, and CatNap catches her. They resume the fight. Just a little longer.

30 seconds.

Finally, DogDay finds the lever and pulls it, stopping the liquid nitrogen from flowing from the exposed pipe. Doey’s body thaws within seconds, his expression twisting in pain.

“Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt. It hurts!”

“I know, friend, I know, but we have to go.”

DogDay wraps Doey’s arm around his shoulder, supporting him as they head towards the prison entrance. CatNap and Kissy take that as their cue, racing to catch up with the others.

5 seconds.

They reach the entrance just in time.

0 seconds.

The bombs erupt all at once, creating one big explosion from within the hallway where they just were. Those closest to the entrance end up falling forward from the force of the impact, including CatNap. Smoke billows from within the facility, which remains miraculously intact despite the hallway being destroyed.

CatNap’s head spins as he lies against the cement ground. Exhaustion is starting to catch up with him, eyes stinging, lungs burning, muscles cramping from overuse. A vague thought appears in his mind of how embarrassing this looks, a creature made for destruction lying here in such a pitiful state.

Weak.

Get up.

He slowly climbs to his hands and knees, ignoring the dull ache that radiates from the movement.

A yellow hand extends towards him.

Kissy is there, looking equally as worn down as he does. Wordlessly, CatNap accepts her hand, lifting himself up from the ground. Up ahead, the others have already recovered, gathering together somewhere close to the center of the room.

DogDay points forward.

“There’s the elevator. Hurry!”

Doey and the survivors quickly head towards the elevator. Kissy hurries to catch up with them.

CatNap waits behind for a moment, ensuring everyone is accounted for. Only when he’s certain no one is missing does he start preparing to leave.

He takes a step forward—

“Theodore.”

CatNap’s blood freezes.

The air has somehow disappeared from his lungs.

That voice.

Him.

“Do you still believe in me?”

Hypnotized, CatNap slowly looks over his shoulder.

Within the white smoke lies a massive silhouette, larger than any other being in the factory. His figure is imposing, spider-like legs and a humanoid torso, terrifying in the most beautiful way. He nearly forgot what it felt like to witness a divine being, a light so blinding he can no longer differentiate between darkness. His features are masked by the smoke, but he can feel his omniscient gaze staring back at him from the fog, perceiving him.

The holy figure beckons him.

A deep longing aches in his chest among dozens of other incomprehensible things. Thoughts and feelings he can’t make sense of. He doesn’t need to understand. He doesn’t need to THINK. He just needs to BELIEVE in HIM. He is all that matters.

His body wants to move, his soul practically tugging itself towards him—

“CatNap?”

DogDay’s voice snaps him out of his daze. He turns around and finds DogDay watching him expectantly from up ahead, confusion written across his features. He’s too far to notice the person standing within the smoke.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, we’re almost there.”

Right.

He isn't walking this road anymore.

No matter how much he devours, it won’t make his hunger go away. No matter how much he takes, it won’t fill the hole inside him. He knows this.

CatNap looks once more at the ethereal being.

He looks again at DogDay, concern reflecting from his eyes.

CatNap takes a deep breath, then hurries over to DogDay, ignoring the voice in his head that screams at him to turn back, to give in to that blinding light. Shame crawls over his back, as if he’s committing the greatest sin. Still, he refuses to look back.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he feels DogDay take his paw, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. It’s grounding, and even though he doesn’t deserve it, he holds on anyway.

And as he ascends the elevator, he feels the weight of a perceiving gaze, watching him.

They find John waiting for them near the elevator. CatNap imagines him sitting in a chair, hunched over and fingers laced, anxiously waiting for his friends to return from their dangerous mission. He imagines him shooting to his feet the moment he notices the elevator moving upwards.

Currently, he’s standing in front of an empty chair, confirming his suspicions that he had been waiting for a while.

“You’re back,” John says to all of them, a look of joy and relief on his face.

Doey is the first to respond, crossing the room in the blink of an eye before pulling the man into a tight hug, causing him to grunt. How the dough man still has this much energy is beyond him.

“John, buddy! You’re alright!” Doey says. John chuckles, not seeming to mind being squished against pounds of dough, and responds by patting his back.

“Good to see you too, Doey.”

After releasing John, Doey pulls out the Grabpack, having held onto it during their trip back to the elevator.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

“No way.” John stares at the device with a mixture of awe and disbelief. When he puts it on, he sighs in contentment, as if it were an old jacket he hadn’t seen in a while. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.” Doey clears his throat, appearing unsure of himself. “So now that we’re here, is it all true? The food pantry, the medical center, the alarm system—all of those things are available? It’s… safe here?”

John smiles.

“Come see for yourself.”

They proceed to enter the main area of Playcare. It’ll be nighttime soon, but right now, the lights are still on. CatNap trails behind the group, watching the others as they interact with John and vice versa. Mainly DogDay, Kissy, and Doey are excited to speak to him, likely catching him up on everything that happened during their mission. Some of the survivors appear curious about him as well, including the ones who were apparently cautious about him in the beginning.

That clumsy rat has become quite popular, CatNap thinks with amusement. He isn’t sure where the thought came from. He’s more used to feeling envious, and perhaps a small part of him still is, though it feels more distant now.

“Kissy!” Poppy’s tiny figure comes running across the yard, red pigtails bouncing with the movement. Kissy crouches down, welcoming the doll into her arms.

“Are you hurt? Look at all that blood! We need to get you washed up and treated, pronto!”

While Poppy fusses over Kissy, DogDay begins speaking to John in private. CatNap doesn’t eavesdrop, not exactly, but he does observe them discreetly, analyzing their body language. DogDay says something that makes John’s eyebrows knit together. John glances in CatNap’s direction, then says something to DogDay, a question from the looks of it. DogDay says something reassuring, then afterwards, the two of them are joking lightheartedly.

CatNap shifts his attention to Doey, who’s currently in the middle of marveling at Playcare along with his crew. It’s clear that they’re unused to being outside of the Safe Haven, or the underground facility at all, for that matter. He expects them to be overwhelmed. Instead, one of the smaller toys cheers, prompting the others to do the same.

Soon, John and his allies are all gathering together, smiling and laughing with joy.

CatNap quietly observes them from a distance.

It isn’t emptiness he feels this time. Just acceptance. The job is done, and his services are no longer needed. All that’s left for him to do now is depart. Maybe he’ll take a nap—his body is sore and his head is throbbing, so logically he should get some rest. He may have a nightmare, or he may dream of nothing at all. In the morning, he’ll wake up, and he’ll try to be a better person all over again. He’ll keep trying and trying until he’s no longer a black hole. Until the memories of faces he can never forget no longer haunts him. Until the thoughts in his head no longer scream at him but whisper instead.

It's the least he can do.

Before he can begin to leave, John makes eye contact from across the yard. He watches as the man excuses himself from the rest of the group before making his way over.

“Was waiting for you to check in,” says John. “Guess socializing still isn’t your thing, huh?”

CatNap shrugs, his gaze drifting away.

“I do not wish to overstay.”

“You aren’t.” Then, as if to emphasize his point, “Stay.”

A knot begins to unravel somewhere within his chest. He isn’t unwelcome; John wants him here. CatNap doesn’t trust himself to speak, opting to nod his head once instead. John seems to approve of this, his expression growing softer. He then examines CatNap, taking in his state. He doesn’t comment on his matted fur or blood-coated paws, instead seeming more focused on his injuries, or lack thereof.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

At that, CatNap’s gaze lowers to the ground, thoughtful. He’s not sure if he is okay. Physically he’s fine, tired and aching but nothing severe. His mind, on the other hand, feels conflicted. The image of a massive silhouette reappears in his head, reminding him of what he almost did. The longing, the shame, the confusion. The worst part is that no matter what he does, he still feels as if he’s punished either way.

John seems to notice him getting lost in his thoughts, eyebrows knitting with concern.

“Something wrong?”

CatNap debates whether he should share what’s on his mind. In the end, he decides it’s best to be truthful.

“The Prototype called out to me.”

John’s eyes widen an inch, surprised, before his face hardens.

“It had to be a trap. He’s already tried killing you once, I’m sure he’d do it again.”

The words settle deep into his bones. CatNap looks at something far away.

“That… may be true.”

John watches him silently, considering.

“Can I show you something?”

Surprised, CatNap turns his attention back to the man, nodding once. John gestures towards his friends across the yard.

“You see that? They’re alive and happy because of you. Your choices, your efforts—that’s the reason they’re standing here today. You helped make that happen.”

The words catch CatNap off guard. He considers it, observing John’s friends. Poppy is instructing Doey to hold the end of a water hose while she turns the valve on, with the purpose of washing the blood and grime from the toys. Doey proceeds to point the hose directly at his own face right before Poppy turns the valve, resulting in water splashing against his face. Startled, he drops the hose, and Poppy shouts ‘Doey!’ as the hose begins uncontrollably spraying everywhere, causing the other toys to scream and laugh as they run away from it.

They look happy. Normal.

“No matter what anyone says, you aren’t worthless,” John says, his voice sincere. “You are capable of so much good. Always have been.”

CatNap’s heart stutters, a shuddering breath escaping him.

Good? Him?

It feels odd, but maybe, he thinks, there might be some truth to John’s words. He is capable of not hurting others, of being good.

As much as he thrives on power, he doesn’t want to hurt these people anymore. It always leads to nothing. An endless cycle of pain and torment.

He wants to be something, like them.

He wants to join the stars.

“Hey, CatNap!”

He looks up. Kissy is sitting on the ground, in the middle of getting scrubbed with soap by Cat-Bee and other little broken toys. DogDay is helping set up a swimming pool for the survivors while Doey not-so-discreetly fills up a water gun that he somehow managed to find. Meanwhile, Poppy is beckoning CatNap over, having finally caught the runaway water hose. Her clothes are soaking wet, and yet, there’s a grin on her face.

“Come wash up with us,” Poppy says.

The invitation surprises him, as does the warmth blooming in his chest, filling the hollow space with something lively. CatNap doesn’t decline.

He steps forward and joins them.