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Chapter Text

Dims lights overhead hesitantly treaded the line between flickering on and off, dousing Rodger's vision in a disorienting, dappled effect. There was a nervous, high-strung humming of machinery in the air as he stepped through the hall, head held low as he squinted his eye. His body was always slightly shifted forward, tensed and coiled for whenever he would have to run. From behind some boxes stacked into a haphazard pile, a flash of yellow and green and purple shot out, the contrast between him and his environment challenging that of a beacon of light flashed into the sky. Looey shot past him, giving him a friendly smile. Rodger stepped back and drew his hands to his chest, giving Looey a disconcerted furrow of his eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you conserve your stamina, Looey? It'd be bad for you to get injured when we've found no healing, and Pebbles has distracting covered."

"I think better on my feet! Habit I learned from the circus. I've got it all under control, don't worry!"

"...If you're sure. Just stay careful."

As Rodger watched him near the corner, though, Looey hesitated, checked the path ahead of him, and shifted into a walk. Rodger turned back to continue on his own path, walking into a sideroom, the bright red glint of a machine lighting the room with a faint glow. In the darkened corner of the room, something shone dimly, a red outline in a shape familiar to him. Approaching the shelf it sat next to, he crouched down and picked up the research capsule. He tended to fixate on details that had no obvious pertinence; but, then again, that was a crucial trait for uncovering vital clues that would have otherwise been discarded.

Dark ichor swirled around inside, and the glass burned a crimson red underneath streaks of dim white highlights. The metal enclosing each end gently gradiated in color, each face of its surface carving out its distinct shape. Rodger turned it over in his hand, taking care to not crinkle the tapes wrapped loosely around the middle. At the top, radiating outwards from the edge of where the glass met metal, was a small crack, one main vein that split off into innumerable branches and connections.

The glass, fractured in this way, created a dazzling effect in the dim lighting of the room. Each intricate detail and crevice was illuminated against the midnight ichor, stars that shone warmly in a multitude of colors, some breaks in the glass nestled with each other, others reaching out from the origin point. The creaks and sighs of the building around him, combined with the stagnant, dark warmth of the room around him only lulled him further into his observation.

"Rodger?"

Rodger's body jerked involuntarily, the sensation of his heart leaping into his chest knocking all air out his lungs. He whipped around, instintively clutching the research capsule in the crook of his arm, vision shamefully darting to the silhouette in the hallway like a child caught stealing. The shadowy figure, outlined against the stronger outside light, stepped towards him.

"Rodger, I thought you were on the last machine. Looey said that's where they'd seen you last." Tisha's gaze flickered from Rodger, standing unoccupied in the corner of the room, to the machine a stride away from him, completely without any progress. Rodger didn't know whether to be relieved or frightened at her presence. He adjusted his jabot, trying to distract himself from the prickling heat in his chest, unaccustomed to being caught off guard.

"I was searching for research, around this place." Rodger tightened his fingers grasp around his jabot, hating the hesitance that shook his voice. He figured he could reason it away with the possibility of Twisteds lurking around every corner setting him on edge. "I just returned to this room."

Tisha stared at him for a moment longer, confusion still clouding her face. She paused for a moment before speaking again.

"Well, just let us know ahead of time if you're doing that." Her usual tired smile tugged at her face. "Sticking to a routine is important; you can't get anything done being disorganized! Get that done, then meet with us at the elevator."

He nodded, and Tisha headed back out towards the hall.

In the doorway, she stalled for a moment, hand resting on the doorframe as she squinted back at him with an expression of hesitant confusion.

"Didn't you say you had already gotten all the research you needed on Poppy and Shrimpo? Why did you go through all the effort of collecting them this time?"

Rodger was glad his expression was masked by their distance and his position in the darker part of the room. He faltered for a moment.

"I have a new lead that required a touch-up on Poppy's history, and I figured since it was available, I'd take it."

Tisha lingered for a moment longer, then slipped away.

Rodger sighed in relief. Deep in his muscles was a continuous, insuppressable shaking. He usually kept his calm far better than this. As he completed the last machine, he gently set the research capsule he had found down on the floor next to him.

Chapter Text

The elevator creaked as it slowly climbed downwards, strained with the effort. It always went quite slow; the elevator's age made it a serious danger to try to force it to go any faster. Compared to the outer floors, however, it looked surprisingly modern, with a far-too-bright lightbulb providing steady light and neat tiles that shone under the light. (Personally, Rodger had always assumed the cleanliness was because Dandy spent so much time in here and fixed it up, but with Tisha here, he wasn't sure which Toon to attribute that to.)

Sprout broke the silence.

"Remind me, Goob; why are you on this team again? We already have two distractors, Pebbles and Looey. We really didn't need another."

"I'm not distracting. I'm extracting!"

"But... well, you know, with your claws and arms and everything..."

"What about them?"

"Just forget it."

Tisha and Boxten stood by, listening to the conversation but adding nothing.

Rodger absentmindedly ran his thumb up and down the side of the capsule, his other hand hovering near his lapel. He ought to leave the capsule in his briefcase that leaned securely against the wall of the elevator, where he always placed research capsules after collecting them from a floor for safety purposes. But feeling its weight in his hand brought him a sense of solid comfort, easing his mind against the knowledge of another floor to get through.

The unanimous motivation for stepping into that elevator and all the risks that came with it was ichor. Ichor was an extremely valuable resource; it had never been blatantly said, but the way that Dandy's eyes shone at the sight of a paying customer with ichor said everything. Outside of that, little to nothing of true substance was known about it. That was what troubled Rodger the most.

Ichor had something extremely important to do with the creation of Toons, both constituting them and destroying them. Ichor flowed through them, and yet if a Toon were to come into contact with a sufficient amount of external ichor, it corrupted them beyond the point of return. What determined it? What factors went into it? Was ichor the main cause, or just a harbinger of something worse? Was there anybody in this place that knew the truth? It was questions like this that incessantly urged him onwards and gave research such an allure. There was something of value to be found in everything, so long as you took the time to acknowledge it.

The bang of the elevator door and the ding signifying the next floor's commencing pulled Rodger out of his thoughts.

Everyone surged forward onto the floor, a river teeming with high-strung nerves past a broken dam. Only Boxten remained, nervously glancing back at Rodger. Rodger stepped forward, walking side-by-side with him out into the dingy lighting of a worn-down parking lot.

"Nervous?" Rodger asked, trying to keep a non-chalant tone to his voice.

"Oh, well, I- uh, yeah, a bit."

Boxten flinched at the slamming of the elevator door behind him. Rodger looked out towards the floor, marked by a maze of vehicles. A while back, on this same floor, Boxten had gotten cornered by Twisted Pebble when the floor's distractor had lost sight of him. He had stumbled back to the main group with scuff marks and scars angrily scored all around his body. His eyes had been wide as saucers, staring far-away into some tape playing on replay in his mind, hands shaking and fumbling so badly that Rodger had been the one that had to pull him away into a corner and apply Boxten's medkit himself. Since then, the sight of concrete walls and chain-link fences enabled the fight-or-flight in him.

It had cemented Boxten's reputation as a coward into the minds of everyone who had seen it, stepping around him and adjusting team plans to keep him out of danger zones, under the safety net of machines in the safest corners with someone to subtly keep an eye on him. Rodger didn't believe it. Boxten worried a lot, but he was more than capable enough when he was able to keep worry out of his mind. Boxten had lost confidence in himself since the other's treatment of him began, and the cycle continued.

"Well, try counting if you find yourself worried or stressed!" Boxten gave him a shaky smile, then continued on to find a machine. The fingers on the hand that hung by his side curled in and out again, counting up. Rodger curled in the fingers on his own hand and was alarmed to find the capsule still there. He had gotten accustomed to the weight of it and forgotten about his plan of keeping it in the elevator.

Oh well. He could manage.

Chapter Text

Rodger crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching intently as he peeked out over the concrete wall, one hand steadied on the ground and the other gripping the edge of the wall. He could hear Pebble far before he could see him, paws making sharp contact with the ground. There was one machine left; right across from him, plunked down directly in a risky open space. He watched carefully, listening to Pebble rounding the corner.

Rodger always worried about Pebble getting hurt. He didn't quite understand how intricate strategies were planned out beforehand by the other Toons with a dog, and always became concerned when watching him distract, but the rock seemed to have exceptional situational and spatial awareness. The plan, as was always in situations like this, was that Pebble would clear the area so Rodger could extract, since he was the most efficient on the team.

Pebble rushed past, Twisteds racing after him, all thudding footsteps and rumbling growls. Twisted Pebble and Cosmo. A few tense seconds ticked by as he watched them recede into the distance. Pebble barked sharply, the agreed-upon signal to let him know it was safe to go. Rodger darted out from where he had been hiding towards the machine, kneeling before it to start extracting. He carefully laid his capsule next to himself.

The entire floor, he had treated it with extra care. Clutching it close to himself, enveloping it in his arms to shield it from any potention outside danger. He hadn't picked up any other capsules along the way. Something about it pulled him to it.  

Undeniably, it was beautiful. He often admired the way streaks of light danced on the surface of glass. But it wasn't just that. It brought him a sense of comfort and security, encoded with some meaning that gently made its way down into the crevices of his mind, dancing in swirling patterns with the intangible.

He had to keep it safe until he was able to complete this run's quota of ichor collection and return to his room.

Ichor slowly rose to the top. With a ding and blaring of lights along the walls, the final machine was done, and Rodger jumped to pick up his capsule and get to the opening elevator. Running along the route he had came, he heard Twisted Pebble roar behind him, agitated by the sudden commotion. He snuck a look behind him. Pebble was following along his trail towards the elevator, falling back just far enough that Rodger would stay safe from the entourage following the dog.

The ground fell out from underneath him. His stomach flipped as he flew through the air, dulled down blue and red claws pressing his arms to his body as they closed tight around him. Flashes of grey and white rushed past his vision. On reflex, his hands attempted to shoot out in front of him to catch himself, fingers stretched out. A dull clatter sounded beneath him.

The weight of his body found itself pressed up against a swath of warm fur. The hands holding tightly onto him loosened their grip and turned him round to be met with Goob's grinning face. Rodger stumbled backwards once, twice, on trembling legs. He opened and closed his fist, finding only empty air.

His nerves sparked wildly with panic, muscles going numb. A timer ticked down from within the elevator, somewhere above him. He whipped his head round to look behind him.

Pebble was racing towards them, Twisteds right on his tail. How long would it be until he entered with them, and the door banged shut behind him? How long until Rodger's fate was sealed, to always long for something lost?

His body grew prickly hot and panicky, mind swimming with the possibilities.

Pebble made one last leap, crossing the threshold between the grey concrete floor and the neat white tiles.

Someone's hand grazed Rodger's shoulder, gently pulling him back.

On unsteady, stumbling feet, Rodger dashed back out, weaving in between black, long legs attached to giant grey paws.

There was a sudden wave of chattering that rose behind him, frequencies shifted up high in disbelief.

Rodger's universe was reduced to the wild thudding shaking round his head, the spinning floor beneath him, and the black and grey smudge of his research capsule. He tripped over his own unsteady nerves, legs working in disjointed unison to carry him to the spot where he had dropped the capsule. His hand clasped over it, holding tightly. He could hear the timer radiating from the elevator, more incessant now.

10, 9-

With a flash of red, a sharp snarl sounded right next to him. His entire body flinched backwards as a grey, looming mass hurtled towards him. Every inch of his body tugged him in every direction, screeching at him to flee. Still on the ground, he succeeded only in desperately pushing himself backwards.

8, 7, 6-

Scarlet eyes locked onto him with a bulls-eye target, and a maw as black as night bearing rows of shining teeth closed in on him. All thoughts were forced out of his mind. He could only stare into the face of death.

5, 4, 3-

Something purple appeared to the left of his vision. A hand clamped roughly onto his arm, forcing him to get up, yanking him away. His vision remained on the Twisted.

2-

Air rushed past Rodger as Twisted Pebble snapped at empty space, growling in frustration as he turned back around to face them. Shaking his head, he steadied himself and crouched down before throwing himself forward, head twisted to the side as he opened his jaw again.

1.

The elevator door shut with a decisive bang in the face of the creature. The firm grasp that had been supporting him suddenly fell away, and Rodger toppled over onto the floor. His mind reeled as he stared up at the ceiling, a waltz of music from somewhere above him whirling through his mind. Boxten appeared above him, expression etched in panic.

Rodger couldn't make any move. His body was splayed out on the elevator floor, but his mind drifted somewhere inbetween a darkness broken only by a flashing of red and white. This must have been how Boxten felt that day. Body seized up in a panicked indecision, with unceasing death closing in on him and no alternative route to get to in time. Rodger had always figured that Boxten's extreme reaction to getting cornered had to be because of something more than just the fact of getting spotted by a Twisted-- after all, that had happened to him plenty of times before. This must have been it.

Boxten was saying something to him. He forced himself to sit up. With a jolt, he looked to his hand. The capsule was still in his grasp, fingers wrapped loosely around it. He sighed with relief, whole body slumping over as he held it closely to him. He pushed himself up to meet Boxten eye-level.

Boxten's key spun in staggered rhythm, eyes tracking Rodger's movements with concern.

"Thank you, Boxten," Rodger sighed, still a bit breathless. "That took a lot of courage. I wouldn't have survived that without you."

Saying the words out loud made the reality settle into him. He wouldn't have survived that. He would have watched his last escape route sealed off as he was mauled and infected and lost his sense of self to Ichor.

"Y-yeah. Of course." Boxten gave a shaky, abashed smile, before his face settled into the familiar creases of worry. "Everyone else, they either didn't realize it happened, or couldn't do anything, or..."

He trailed off, looking over to the side. Rodger followed his gaze to see the rest of the Toons staring at him, all accusation and shock and disbelief. He already knew what was running through their minds. Rodger averted his eye from them.

"Why did you do that?" Boxten asked quietly. "You would have been safe if you stayed in the elevator with us."

Rodger held up his hand, presenting the cracked research capsule to Boxten. Rodger looked at it with a sense of pride.

"It might have been safe, but this was far more worth it."

Chapter Text

Darkness engulfed Rodger. He could only see a few feet in front of him, particles of dust swirling in the dim beacon of light from his flashlight. It felt boiling hot in the room, the heat gnawing up and down his skin. All he could hear was his feet padding against concrete and his own ragged breaths. Everything else was dead silence. He didn't know how long he'd been walking for; the corridor stretched on endlessly, the possibility of an exit swimming around meaninglessly in the void of darkness that surrounded Rodger.

Thudding footsteps echoed through the hall. Two burning red splotches of light emerged from the dark, swimming before Rodger's eye as his vision blurred. Before he could turn to run, a massive rock swung into his chest, pushing all the air out of his lungs as he was slammed into the ground. Twisted Pebble's paw pressed down further into him, digging his body further into the ground. The pressure was making it impossible for him to breath. He desperately tried to take in air, wheezing and sputtering as every breath was cut short. His research capsule clattered out of his hand and onto the ground, rolling against the concrete floor.

Red eyes darted to watch the source of the new sound.

"No," Rodger weakly gasped, barely able to produce any noise as he tried to reach his arm out for it. His entire upper body was slowing being crushed by the massive weight, every nerve struck on high with panic. He remembered last time. He couldn't lose it again.

But there was no one there to save him that time.

A second paw slammed into the floor, shaking the entire room with a sickening crunch of glass and splatter of ichor.

Rodger woke up gasping for air, jerking his arms around him in a panic. Something heavy was pushing down into his chest. He could barely see through the blanket pulled over his head, his glass was uncomfortably warm and humid. He brought his hands up to his face and clawed the blanket off, blinking in confusion as he tried to adjust to the light. He heard Toodles before he saw her, breathless giggling filling the air.

He was laying in his bed, in his room. Familiar dim lighting, save for the florescent lamp sitting on his desk, shining down on his disorganized piles of research. Familiar bed, familiar bookshelf, familiar wallpaper. Familiar Toodles.

When Rodger sat up in bed, something grey and rock shaped tumbled off of him and to his feet, where Toodles was sitting.

"I-- what?" Rodger's mind was still back in that pitch black, boiling room, lungs screaming for air.

Toodles picked up Pebble and held him loosely in her arms. "I wanted to come and see you, but you were asleep, but you had all the blankets pulled over you like that and you wouldn't wake up!" The familiar high, energetic pitch of her voice, no matter what she was talking about. "Me and Pebble tried waking you up, but you wouldn't."

"Oh, I apologize for that." Rodger leaned his weight on one arm, looking down at his disheveled blanket. "I was just dreaming too deeply, I suppose."

"Oh! A dream?" Toodles leaned forward, smiling wide. "What was it about?"

Rodger felt a twinge of guilt. She seemed so excited to hear about it, more than any other young kid her age would be to hear about someone else's dream. But there was absolutely no way he could tell her. The truth of their situation was already awful enough-- an almost routine cycle of lives being risked every single day for an enigmatic resource in a now desolate place. If he gave her the idea of nightmares about looming Twisteds that could crush Toons in one blow, it would only give her nightmares as well. Not to mention, make her worry about him. It wasn't a child's place to be worrying about an adult. Rodger would take care of everything.

"Honestly, I've forgotten by now."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're sure?" Toodles repeated.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"But it was only a few seconds ago."

"Dreams are like that sometimes, Toodles. Even though it just happened, you can't remember a single moment."

She eventually gave up, looking down at Pebble with an expression of resignation. For Pebble's part, the dog's eyes were staring fixedly at Rodger, piercing into his soul. Or maybe he was staring into nothingness and Rodger's figure just happened to be the target. Rodger returned the stare uncomfortably. He wondered if the dog knew.

"What time is it, Toodles?" His gaze defaulted to a space on the wall opposite of him, the blank space reminding him that he still hadn't put his clock back up on the wall after he had repaired it. In a place that held only fluorescent suns for a light source, the concept of time floated around meaninglessly without any clocks around to check.

"Um, I don't know," Toodles said, suddenly very interested in holding Pebble's paws and swaying them back and forth. "You took a nap because you were really tired and I didn't look at the clock."

"Is it way past your bedtime?"

"No." Toodles lied.

Rodger sighed lightly and, placing both his hands on the mattress beneath him, began to lift himself out of bed.

"No!" Toodles jumped. "Can I just play with Pebble a little bit more?"

Rodger looked back down at Toodles, who was employing Pebbles' giant, round eyes to beg him. He looked down at the ground for a moment. Then up at the desk, where his capsule laid. He thought about how quickly things could be both gained and lost. He thought about how temporary any comfort was. He thought about everything that made up his world, the limited circle of others that he truly held close without feeling some barrier between them. He thought about how easily this moment could be destroyed.

Rodger placed his hand on Toodles' back.

"Alright, this once."

Toodles grinned and half-ran away with Pebble to the corner, which was outfitted with a large box TV on the floor and a few assorted cushions, on which Toodles placed the rock, who gazed back up at her trustingly. She pulled out her box of glitter and bedazzling equipment.

Rodger watched Toodles with amusement, and vowed to protect what he had. He did not tell her about the nightmares he had nearly every night.

Chapter Text

Somewhere, it was raining.

It was somewhere above Rodger. Gardenview was situated underground. Whenever it rained, he could hear the very faintest patter of rain on the ground above. The air around him stood still, humid and tinged with cold. Darkness blanketed his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. The only light source was the slice of yellow peeking out from under his door, the main light in the hallway still turned on. Sometimes, on nights like these, he felt as if he could reach out his hand and touch the barrier that separated his world, Gardenview, from the outside world. What laid beyond the border of the unknown? What had happened behind the scenes, things he was totally oblivious to, that made things turn out this way?

He couldn't sleep. Visions of gleaming ivory fangs and ichor-dripping claws haunted him from the shadows. He couldn't stand this uncertainty. Nobody else seemed to quite understand him in this regard. Everyone else seemed to have settled into their own role in this place. If they couldn't change it, they had to adjust to it. Yes, of course, they wanted to figure out what had happened, and wanted to escape this prison of ichor and monotonous terror just as much as him. But he couldn't understand how they could so easily adjust to it and bear it as they did. Sometimes it felt like if they really wanted to, they could forget all about it, even if only temporarily. Rodger could not. All that he could do was work endlessly towards research. Everyone in this place had something that fueled them to keep going in spite of the ruin surrounding them. He wanted to figure out as much as he could and know with certainty everything that had taken place.

He wanted control. He needed it. On his good days, to proceed without knowing the truth filled him with unease and made him eager to set things right. On his bad days, his hands grew numb and clammy, his heartbeat racking his body apart. To other Toons, it was just an irritating habit he had, resulting in endless questioning sessions and unpredictable bursts of all-or-nothing scrimmages. 

The weight of the night pressed down on him. He turned over in his bed, eye adjusted to the low light. The capsule sat on his desk, right where it always was, a vague figure in the darkness. After a moment's hesitation, he reached over for it and grabbed it. The interlocking glass and metal was cold to the touch, and the weight felt steady and secure in his hands. The ichor inside shifted softly, the quiet lulls of a peaceful ocean's waves.

He shifted to sit up more comfortably in bed. At first, he could feel the temperature difference between the capsule and his hand, the capsule being significantly colder than the hand that had been warmed by blankets and body heat all night. Then, gradually, the two began to balance out. The transferring of two opposite worlds to each other. The capsule, only cold and unassuming to anyone else, made warm and gentle by his own fondness for it. Rodger blushed at the thought for a reason he couldn't explain.

His gaze shifted searchingly around the small space of his hands holding the capsule, blinking a few times. He looked up at the door. His whole body felt light and prickly, heart suddenly hammering in his chest. Something about this felt private, and he felt embarrassed by the idea of someone walking in on him holding the capsule. Slowly, he laid back down in bed on his side, holding the capsule gently. Something was blooming inside his chest, a feeling of elation and nervous excitement. His heart calmed. For a while, he gazed at the capsule, watching the way the faint glow from the hallway glinted off the small indentations and cracks in the glass. Beautiful was the only word that came to his mind.

He clutched the capsule close to him, and slowly sunk his way into a peaceful sleep. This time, the shadows sitting in the corners of his room were just darkness, and he had no nightmares.