(Minor language warning) enjoy!

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5:40 am

     Peaceful. The world enveloped him in warmth and pure bliss of darkness. He couldn't care less about the time. After all, it was far from the hour to get up and head to his weird work.

"...so..ill..e..ay...ight?"

     Voices just above a buzz floated by. Who else was home?

"Shh....sensitive...to the..."

     A young child's worried tone brought familiarity. But where'd he hear it before? Last month? Yesterday?

"At least......can't imagine....."

     No wait. He knew who just spoke. The association of fake glasses came to mind. Snoozing in his room was no longer a possibility of his whereabouts. Cold floor drained his warmth. Metallic smells filled his lungs. A blurry clown-like face peered at him, ever-smiling.

"He's awake."

The image of an authoritative robot sharpened. A remote control, grasped by two metal fingers, came into view. "Welcome back. I am dismayed to announce that we lack color receptors. So to avoid any cataclysmic mishandling, we did not attempt to use this."

     Logan? Oh snap.

     The events from the past couple of days swamped his brain. The newspapers. Wrong suspect. Remotes. The puppet. Nearly being demolished by Roman. Not to mention a broken arm and hellish pain that thrived on the left side of his face.

Thomas got up. Or, he tried to. A lighting bolt shot through his head when his neck elevated a few degrees. The man slumped back, releasing a breath through clenched teeth.

"Careful, kid." Patton's enlarged hand placed itself on his shoulder. "Don't move, Logan said you'll only hurt more."

The mentioned persona pinched the bridge of his nose. He glowered at the other animatronic.

"I still find it irrational for you to have given out our names. As paradoxical or hypocritical this might sound, living by deceit is the only way we've collectively managed to—"

"I hate lying!"

     A quietude fell on everyone. Patton's grip tightened, the human underneath let out a quiet word of complaint.

     Logan put up a hand, "Arguing will not resolve anything. Let's clear our heads of unnecessary emotions and talk this out, logically."

To which, the other crossed his arms and gave a death glare to the floor.

"You'll have to excuse him." The remote cast a shadow over his face, suspended by a concerned mechanical man. "Back to our pressing matter at hand, which button is orange?"

Thomas squinted. "Top right...shaped like a square."

Beep!

A figure in stripes and buttons immediately sat up.

"—are you doing?! Wha..." The puppet glanced around, taken aback by their new location. Roman lay beside them, as still as a doll. Virgil was propped up against a wall, immobile. "Guys?"

     Patton crouched beside his small friend and murmured a few words. Whatever was said, the tear-streaked mascot didn't respond for a long while.

     Talyn slowly turned around to face the night guard.

"You...really have no idea what you're doing, huh? Wait!" They skittered to the human and examined his injuries. "Did he do this?! Holy hell, how are you even alive?"

"Oh, he had no part in this." Logan asserted. "Our impulsive friend here couldn't control his temper."

When the animatronic said 'friend', he pointed at Creativity's sprawled body.

"Why am I not surprised?" Talyn sighed. They tapped purple and reddened skin, reverting it to a healthy state. All known pain ceased to exist within Thomas. His left eye regained clarity, arm could move freely again.

"Thanks, Talyn."

The mentioned child stiffened. "Who told you that?"

"Our other imbecile friend decided to share our names, and furthermore, our history."

     Patton shrunk back once three pairs of eyes landed on him. The puppet simply walked to a wall and numbly thudded their head against it. Repeatedly. For a while, the only sound in Thomas' office was thunk—thunk—thunk—thunk.

Beep!

Beep!

     Logan set down two remotes. "We need to give them the memo."

The light simultaneously retuned in hot pink and dark grey eyes. Roman shot up.

"Beware the beast! He— oh, hey Puppet."

Thunk—thunk. "He knows about us." Thunk—thunk—thunk.

"WHAT?!" Virgil straightened. He stumbled to rise. "Don't you remember about the last time?!"

Patton tried to speak up, but a cluster of voices chipping in their opinions and anxieties dominated the room. Every one spoke over each other, and they only got louder for the sake of being heard.

"—need to asses all possible outcomes—"

"We know only one thing is gonna come out—!"

"—healing factor has limits!"

"—can't fight him! And neither can you!"

"We're doomed!"

"—I'm suggesting a plan composed of 25 parts—"

"He's going to die if we don't—"

"Hey!" Thomas yelled over cupped hands.

"—it wasn't my idea to go around—!"

"—if we're precise and calculative, then we run a greater chance of not—"

"HEY!"

All mascots stopped and faced the night guard. Save for the purple one, who kept rambling. "Cuz then he's gonna eventually find out and I can't handle another—"

"VIRGIL!"

The animatronic didn't shut up.

"No. No. You can't know that!" He gestured a story, subtly acting out his next suggestion. "How about we throw you against the sidewalk and hope for amnesia? Or just take—"

"You're not helping!" Talyn shot back.

"You guys keep talking about this 'he'," Thomas's voice rung loud and clear, "Who is it? The killer?"

Every robot stared at him. They stole glances at each other, waiting for one to speak...or urged the others to stay silent, Thomas really couldn't tell. The only sound present became the night guard's tired, heavy breathing.

A metal man tapped his forefingers together. It reminded the human of his own nervous tick when something was on his mind. "It's someone much worse..."

"Oh my fairy godmother! Can you be quiet, for like, 5 minutes?!"

Patton's shoulders rose. "We've been quiet for too long—"

"4, 5 years?" Logan inquired.

"—and Thomas deserves to know as much as we do because he can save kids that we can't! Also, William is responsible for the death of his friend! We can finally do something! Don't you think that's reason enough?!"

"Yes!! In the name of justice!" Roman stepped toward the human. "Thomas, you know what it's like to have someone dear ripped away. What if I told you that our villain is after more people? That's more empty holes in hearts waiting to happen...more suffering like yours."

     The valiant prince clenched a fist in the air. "It doesn't have to continue. Together, we can take down the evil and ensure safety for generations to come!"

"That's ridiculous."

"I'm serious, Windows-Error, we've hid too long, amongst forgotten shadows. It's time to step up and fight!"

     The human glanced back and forth between the two. "Wait, who's William?"

"A shitty dude who got a hitman to kill us just to 'test out a hypothesis'." Talyn spat out.

     Logan adjusted his glasses. "Well, yes, but it was more of a theory of his own. The theory of immortality."

     Thomas gave him a weird look. Then again, people came up with all sorts of insane theories about the universe or human life. He'd heard so much; ones about wormholes, time travel, alternate dimensions....but immortality?

"It sounds impractical, I know. I'll simplify his thought process; if one can keep the brain/heart active and healthy, its owner remains alive until serious injury is brought upon them. Microchips implanted in the brain, and a mechanical heart that keeps it going will grant the owner an infinite lifespan."

     The animatronic pointed at his head. "We have active brains with microchips encased in a near indestructible metal. We have copper hearts connected to the microchips via electric pulses. An artificial nervous system within robot bodies. We aren't dead, we merely exist without an organic body."

     Thomas scrunched up his face in outright bewilderment. That...

"That doesn't make sense! Brains need oxygen and glucose." Anatomy and 4th grade science class were catching up to him. "It's delivered through blood. And, and the protective liquid between it and the skull—"

"Cerebrospinal fluid, I know. William had it all figured out."

     Roman waved an arm, intersecting it between the two nerds. "Are we done talking? C'mon, I though we were gonna start a revolution. Strike the empire back!"

"Oh yeah, that sounds great. Easy peezy! We definitely won't get tortured." The marionette said sarcastically, then flopped into a sitting position and stood still.

"Hey, let's think positive—"

"Patton, your faulty actions led us into this mess." Logan's tone grew harsh and cold. "Don't tell us how to think or act, we decide it!"

The authoritative robot suddenly gripped his head, wincing. This caught Virgil's attention.

"Lo, you ok?"

Their companion rubbed plastic hair, though there wasn't a point to it. He knocked on his forehead, hard. Logan shook his head out of the daze.

"Apologies. It occurs when my brain is overloaded with feelings." He narrowed his eyes. "They've always been the bane of my existence."

     A purple-dressed machine fiddled with his thumbs, distracted by thoughts that glazed his eye. He looked up and gestured at everything.

"William made us imperfect immortals."

     Virgil pointed at himself, "I basically have an anxiety disorder from a bad chip. Patton is more emotional than the average person for the same reason. Talyn's nervous system sometimes freezes up."

Thomas glanced at the sitting puppet. Sure enough, they weren't moving. Then their friend experienced a sudden jolt throughout their body. Talyn shuddered, and looked back at him.

"And I'm perfect!" Roman boasted.

"Shut up Princey, you're not." Virgil turned his attention to the guard standing before him. "The point is, he won't let anyone get away with freeing us, even if we're screw-ups. So you better back away...or Physo Man might think about adding you to his kill-list."

Thomas opened his mouth, but before he could breathe out a response the alarm went off.

6:00 am

"Day shift employees will be here soon. They'll flip their lid if we're not found on our stages." Logan stated as he walked backwards, "Our conversation isn't done, Mr. Sanders."

     He and most others headed out of his office. Only Patton remained, silent.

     Seconds ticked by, and the animatronic drew courage to speak. "Kiddo, I'm real sorry I've dragged you into this. I was really hoping you could help us, but...I didn't think ahead."

He left without giving Thomas time to reply.

———————

6:04 am

Clocked out. His mind lingered on Patton's words. He didn't consider himself a hero, but...it was possible to help them. To catch the killer for Valerie. To lock him in jail for the children. Make him pay for this crimes—

"Mr. Sanders, a word with you."

Based on its grave tone, Thomas felt like a middle schooler being called up for the principal's office. He turned around to face his manager.

"Of course. Um, in the employee room or—"

"That won't be necessary. Just here." A man pulled out slips of colored paper from a suit pocket. "These have lists of items that must be discarded. I've written them as specific as possible so you don't get mistaken."

Dexter handed the sticky notes to his employee, who took them with an 'ok, sir'.

"Business is booming," He continued, the corners of his mouth upturned in a sly smile. "Out restaurant is spiking in popularity, so naturally we're using this opportunity to appear nicer."

Thomas nodded, feeling a bit out of place since he didn't feel the need to contribute to the conversa—wait, actually he did.

"Uh, when are the remotes going to be in use?"

Mismatched eyes landed on him.

"The mascots will preform a coordinated performance on Saturday. You'll follow a set of instructions to activate their movements, but practice begins tomorrow. Unless...you've already familiarized yourself with the buttons?"

The night guard ignored series of chills striking his spine. He shook his head.

"Oh, no. They're still in my office."

     Dexter nodded slowly. "Interesting. I ought to warn you that my business partner designed those himself. Given his...afflicted history with past inventions, tracking and hearing devices have been installed in them."

     He felt his eyes widen but regained composure. "Those must've been expensive to make."

     Dexter smirked. "We have the money. And he loves the mascots."

..............

Chapter 8➡️Monday