[TOY] Plaything

[skinstealer]

You take a step back-

and then another.

With every step, you hear a windup leg cycle, as if someone's- as if Daemon is coming for you.


They're going to-


You shake your head violently, eyes narrowing.


Not the time. Not the fucking time.
They're not here.
This thing-


Its head twists as it peers at you, a breathy laugh escaping its drooling mouth.


is NOT Daemon.
And I'm going to win.

POLKA DOT: K-keep your heads together!
POLKA DOT: FOCUS!

 

It takes a step forward- windup leg cycling, no, it's a large, raggedy plush paw, get real-  and you can see Cross' tail lash.

CROSSBONE: Stay on guard-
CROSSBONE: I'm gonna need cover while I try to figure this thing o-out!
POLKA DOT: You got it!

 

The beast's eyes follow you as you start moving towards your partner, quick on your feet.

????: Don't be stupid-!!
????: Tim's the only one with a fucking weapon that can reach this thing right now!
TIMOTHY:  I-!

 

Horror dawns in the dog's eyes.

TIMOTHY: oh god

 

The beast sets its sights on the black-patterned bear, lunging towards it.

????: shit-

 

His brow furrows as he dives to the side, visibly straining at the sudden motion.

????: HURRY UP

 

He narrowly manages to avoid its razor-sharp teeth, but slams against the tent wall in the process.
It turns to nab him once more, only to yell in pain as Tim's sword slices across one of its legs.

The dog narrowly manages to avoid getting stepped on thanks to his effort.

????: Too cramped!
TIMOTHY: A-agreed!
TIMOTHY: Gotta get out of here-
POLKA DOT: G-got anything, babe?
CROSSBONE: I-

 

She makes a frustrated beep.

CROSSBONE: It's so damn dark-

 

Thinking quickly, you sprint to the fireplace.
One of the beast's paws happens to be standing in it.

You can't help but grin as you maneuver your arm around to flip the switch underneath, the LED inside turning on in an instant.
The beast's leg fizzles before it stumbles back with an angry yowl.

POLKA DOT: How's that for a light?
CROSSBONE: G-great, honey-!
CROSSBONE: But I still need time!

 

Your moment of gloating is cut short as the beast nearly stomps you in the process of turning around.

It walks towards the campfire, only to prop itself over it.
You barely catch a glance of tar spreading before the campfire goes out for good.

????: Well NOW you've gone and done it-
CROSSBONE: I-it!
CROSSBONE: Exposed ribs! It's got a r-ribcage!
????: GREAT.
????: Now HOW does that-
CROSSBONE: It's leaking!
CROSSBONE: T-tar, everywhere-
CROSSBONE: Don't get under it!

 

Tim manages to sink his blade deep into the thing's leg, only for his sword to get stuck.

He loses his grip on it,
but runs to stay behind the beast and out of view as it turns around.


Curly...


He holds back a growl, repeating reassurances to himself over and over.


It's not real.
It's like-
It's like last night!


Something's sticky against his paw as it brushes against his chest- tar.


From the fucking stab-

Curly, you haven't been a good gi-

TIMOTHY: Nnnn-

 

Even with the sensation of things starting to touch his neck, cheek, chest-

Tim holds fast, ready to move.

The next time it takes a step, he waits for its back paw to stop moving and lunges.

He nabs his sword, loosing it with a mighty pull.
The dog takes a quick moment to swipe it to the side at nothing, getting most of the tar off it in the process.

The beast kicks with its back leg, smacking him against the tent wall.

POLKA DOT: Shit, TIM-
TIMOTHY: I-
TIMOTHY: I'm okay!

 

Good girls behave.

He's shaking as he gets back to his feet, rage in his eyes.

There's a hand gripping around his neck.

Squeezing tighter and tighter.

You haven't learned your lesson yet.

TIMOTHY: I'm good!

 

The beast ROARS.

It's FAR louder than you were expecting.
You instinctively wince and cover your ears.

The beast charges Cross in the moment you're all distracted.
She still manages to try and move.
One of the tent's 'rooms' is in the way of her path, though, and she ends up stuck as the beast headbutts her against the tent wall.

POLKA DOT: CROSS!

 

Tim slices its leg.
Once, and again, allowing Cross to pull away.

You're too occupied to even express your relief.

The beast screams in pain and frustration, stomping about in a tantrum,
inadvertently stepping on one of Roulette's legs in the process.

????: WATCH IT-!
????: YOU WANT ROULETTE TO DIE LIKE THIS?
POLKA DOT: I DON'T-
????: WE NEED GET THIS THING OUT OF THE TENT!!!

 

The bear snarls and grabs something off of the ground- Cross' book, by the look of it-


-and hurls it at the beast's face, the paperback bouncing off harmlessly-

Devotion.

-but definitely getting the monster's attention, floodlights focused on him.

????: I'LL DO IT MYSELF
????: FUCKING MOVE ROULETTE-

 

Devotion, cmon, you can gimme a better look than that-

POLKA DOT: I've got it!
CROSSBONE: I-I'll help distra-
TIMOTHY: Me too-!
????: WHATEVER you want to do-
????: Get Roulette somewhere safe-
????: AND BOOK IT OUT OF THE TENT-!

 

You sprint to Roulette.

The beast leans its head towards the bear,
only for a packet of jerky to nail it in the eye, thrown by Cross.

Your arms loop under Roulette's shoulders, hoisting it up by the shoulders as much as you're able.
It's lighter than you expected, but still heavy enough that you can't lift it entirely by yourself.


Drop it and run.
The exit's ripped open, you can get away if you leave it.
It's dangerous. You know that.

POLKA DOT: N-
POLKA DOT: N-never....

 

You don't seem to register that you're speaking aloud, the words spilling out of you.

POLKA DOT: Never again-
POLKA DOT: Is a-anyone! Being left behind!

 

You heave, beginning to drag it along.
The task immediately feels almost impossible: The tar is slick and sticky.

It's difficult to pull Roulette through it, and you're getting plenty on You in the process.


That's a good mindset to have in most cases.
But, it tried to kill you, Polka.
It's only waiting for its moment. You know that.

And this time it could be you again,

or someone else.

Cross takes a swipe to the leg.
She gets back up, but you can't tell how bad it is.
You can't do anything to help.

POLKA DOT: N-no!
POLKA DOT: M...My friends-
POLKA DOT: They're-

 

You pull for a second, as hard as you can. And have to stop.
Pull. Stop.
Pull. Stop.
Starting to get a rhythm.

Roulette's head - dull and lifeless, looking more like scrap than ever -
dangles limply against your wing, shaking in time with your motions.


They'll die.

Cross, too.
If you bring Roulette back.

And risking yourself for a Murderer means they could die. Right here.
Any second now.

Drop it and run.


Your leg slips, nearly loosing your grip.


I need him, anyway.
A second voice chimes in.
Don't worry, I'll take good care of him.
I'd never hurt him.
He's too sweet.

????: I-is it calling Roulette a mur-
POLKA DOT: Do you REALLY care about that right now?!
POLKA DOT: I'm not bringing up YOUR shit-
POLKA DOT: And Roulette-

 

You manage to regain your footing, letting out pained squeaks of exertion.

POLKA DOT: Is OUR friend!
????: R-RIGHT-

 

With a final pull,
you manage to get Roulette behind the only tent 'room' that's still somewhat-standing.

Your mind races, looking around for anything you can use.

The sleeping bag nearby is relatively untouched by tar, somehow.
You pull down the blanket partition, using it to wipe what you can off of Roulette before stuffing it into the sleeping bag.

You have no idea if it breathes or not, but you leave its face open to the air just in case, the rest fully zipped up.
With that, you push it to the corner and hope for the best.

POLKA DOT: I-IT'S GOOD!
TIMOTHY: EVERYBODY OUT-

 

You all race towards the entrance.

You don't get more than a few steps before watching it get incased in tar.
The beast had stepped over, soaking it with the tar pouring from its exposed ribcage.

As if it knew you were headed that way.

It steps back in, its grin never feeling more menacing than now.


You always run your mouth Curly
Cmon Devotion don't you wanna give me a
Polly you know it's me
You're always breaking your buttons

????: AH-

 

He pulls his knife back, letting out a strangled scream as he plunges the blade into the side of the tent.

????: G-GETTING US-
????: GETTING US OUT
TIMOTHY: I GOT YOU-!
POLKA DOT: DO IT, MAN
 

 

The bear nods, his shoulders heaving as he refocuses his efforts.

He pulls as hard as he can.
He's making progress, but it's tearing so slowly.

The beast rears it head up and SCREAMS, piercing the air,
before barreling towards the bear full-force,
its maw wide open.

You're too far away to do anything yet.
Cross lunges to try and trip its leg, but can't snag it in time.
Tim is knocked back as he tries to swipe at it.
The bear can't get out of the way in time.




The bite lands.




The black-marked bear is coated in tar as he's pulled off his feet by the shoulder.



He lets out a scream, only for the sound to be choked out by the beast's teeth digging deeper.

POLKA DOT: FUCK-

 

You think you're hot shit-

Tim leaps from someone's rather overstuffed backpack.
His sword plunges through the beast's neck.

There's a loud scream- not from the beast, or anyone of your party-

-like someone being mauled, cussing slurs you've never even heard of-

The dog yanks his sword back out as the bear drops to the ground.

????: H...haa...
????: Hurts like it did back then, huh-
 

He chokes and winces, curling into a ball amidst the tar.

TIMOTHY: H-HEY-
 

Tim's voice is shaky, reaching out to touch the bear's shoulder-

Before he rises to his feet as quickly as he can, giving the dog a look you can't make out in the lighting-

And returning to his knife, yanking on it with just as much fervor as before.

TIMOTHY: I-
????: It's not over yet.
 

You're headed towards the others, you want to help,
but it's only now you realize just how much tar you're soaked in.
Your movements are slow, and you can't seem to wipe much off as you move.

With renewed aggression, the beast shakes it off and moves for the bear.

Tim reacts quickly, swinging for its face.

But it swerves at the last moment, pinning Tim to the ground with a heavy paw.
It leans forward, putting its weight down as he struggles.



A hatchet flies by, planting itself directly into one of the beast's giant, beaming eyes.
It reels back, allowing Tim to get back to his feet.

CROSSBONE: CMON!

 

Tim's voice comes out hoarse, choking out the words.

TIMOTHY: Th-thank you-

 

The bear's knife finally tears its way down the tent wall, making a hole plenty big enough to get through.

He laughs, coming out almost maniacal from the sheer amount of stress he's under.

????: G-GOT IT!!
 

The bear climbs through, just as Cross reaches it.
Tim is a bit behind, clutching his chest as he coughs.
Cross quickly pulls him through.

You're having trouble running, the tar having pooled significantly enough that you're trudging your way over.
Only for the beast to move between you and the newly-created exit, blocking it off.

Its one good eye glares down at you as its other spotlight flickers, illuminating Cross's hatchet intermittently.

CROSSBONE: POLKA

 

Her voice is distorted, glitching, agonized.

You back up.




It's all you can do.



The beast pushes its head forward.

Either it's tired,
or it's taking its time with you.






Your foot bumps something and you stumble, falling onto your back.





The beast's head slowly lowers.




The windup key turns.

Over and over again.




You're just going to slow me down.



It opens its jaws wide.



The cocking of a pistol.



Your eyes are wide, tears streaming down your face.



You consider saying you're sorry. You never got to before.



Your wings searches in the muck for something.
Anything.



You find what you'd tripped over.


You can feel it.


It's Roulette's sickle.



You always pick the wrong horse to bet on, Polly.
You think you can make it right?
Be friends with that thing?
It's a heap of scrap you should have thrown out ages ago-


You're shaking, your fear replaced with a fury-filled resolve.

POLKA DOT: N...
POLKA DOT: Never.
POLKA DOT: I'll never be like you.
POLKA DOT: Not to it. Not to any of them.

 

You shove the scythe up, causing a splash.

You aim for its other eye.

The beast reels back, but a little too late.
The sickle grazes straight across it.

It isn't enough to take it out, but it screeches in pain all the same.



You rise from the muck.

Armed with a friend's sickle.
You mimic the way it carried it, you'd seen it fight.

You swipe in the same way.
It's more difficult than you thought.

It's plenty.



The sickle swings through its face like a knife through butter, cutting a deep gash.

It stumbles away from you, giving you an opening.



You run.


You trip.







Cross catches you and pulls you through, into quick hug, splattering herself with tar in the process.
In the moment, it doesn't matter.

TIMOTHY: F-FUCK, I thought you-
POLKA DOT: I'm not eating shit today.
CROSSBONE: You're not eating shit EVER

 

You manage a weak smile, Tim starting to look around as best as he could while hunched over.

TIMOTHY: C-can't see much-
TIMOTHY: Barrier's up-
TIMOTHY: But we've...we've got room.
CROSSBONE: ...so...what do we do?

 

The bear laughs, a hateful, bitter sound that startles all of you. His knife is clenched tight in his shaking hand, eyes wide with rage.

????: We make that motherfucker pay.
 

Right on cue, it crashes through the tent wall with a thundering roar.

It rushes at you all.
You raise the sickle and swing



only for it to move much, MUCH faster than you were anticipating,
completing its arc so hard it knocks you off-balance.

You slam into Tim and the two of you fall over.

You both scramble to get back up.

Cross gets in front of you and swings her fist upward.
She catches the bottom of the beast's head and flicks it towards the sky.
The hit stops it in its tracks.

It's knocked off-balance.

Disoriented, shambling back and shaking its head to try and snap out of it.

CROSSBONE: G-
CROSSBONE: GET U-UP! PLEASE
CROSSBONE: PLEASE, Y-
CROSSBONE: IDONTKNOWYOURNAMEBUTPLEASEHELPTHEM

 

Curlypolly you're a good girl why don't you come with me we'll get to one hundred we'll win win win we'll be together forever we'll make it big we'll be married forever and ever and ev

Tim can't get up, digging his fists into the snowy, tar splattered ground. He's crying- and so are you.

You're so cute you're so cute you don't have to ever grow up or leave we can stay here forever you're so much better this way

TIMOTHY: I-
TIMOTHY: I c-can't
POLKA DOT: W...we can't- give up-

 

We'll get one hundred one hundred kills one hundred heads split open with stuffing and gears and wires and blood and guts and

POLKA DOT: We can't-

 

The two of you look into each others' eyes.

You're so scared.

????: FUCK'S SAKE-

 

The bear bends over with a loud noise of pain, trying to haul both of you up in one arm each.

????: CRY LATER
 

Cross closes the gap just before the beast recomposes itself.

Her fists hammer away at its face.

Dodging teeth.
Dodging claw swipes.

She's starting to leave dents.

A stray bite manages to nick her arm.
Her plastic outer shell finds a few holes in it from the bite.

Tar leaks in.


It's so cold.


It's Cross' own voice.


It's so cold.
I could do it.
I could press reset.

CROSSBONE: Nnn-

 

It'd be all new.
A fresh start.
Nothing. No more me.
They'd be happier.

CROSSBONE: S-StTTOP

 

It's not like I have anything.
It's not like this'll get better.
There's no way out.
There's no way out.
There's no way out.
There's no way out but a complete and total reset.

CROSSBONE: PLEE-AASE- STOP-

 

Maybe it'll be less care mistakes this time.

????: IT'S NOT REAL
CROSSBONE: B-but-
????: SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME-

 

The bear is struggling hard, panting and wheezing.

????: IF YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING AT ALL
????: THEN STOP LISTENING TO IT
TIMOTHY: H-hey-

 

Tim says it so quietly that only you can hear him, the bear caught up in yelling at Cross.

TIMOTHY: I...
TIMOTHY: I'm glad we're-

 

He smiles with his eyes, tear embroidery drenching his cheeks.

TIMOTHY: We did it, right?
POLKA DOT: I-

 

He tugs on the bear's sleeve before you can respond, the shadowy-accented toy snapping his head down.

He's been crying just as much.

????: Not the ti-
TIMOTHY: I'm s-
TIMOTHY: Sorry-
TIMOTHY: That I couldn't hug you too-

 

The bear stands there, dumbfounded, as Tim blacks out, sliding out of his grip.

He stays like that, staring at the dog on the ground.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tapping him on the side.

POLKA DOT: W-we can-
POLKA DOT: Figure that out later-
????: r
????: right.

 

With a deep noise of exertion, he gets you up.

You're still having trouble standing, but you're starting to shake it off.

The bear hurries to back up Cross, and you follow as best as you're able.



Just as the beast reaches to snatch Cross's arm into its maw,
she raises both fists high over her head.

She leans back.

The bite just barely grazes her screen.

Her fists slam downward, the beast yelping in pain as her hands leave an imprint in the dead center of its face,
starting to rip its hide.

Tar coats her arms.
Her own voice rings louder, but she ignores it.



Her good hand reels back as far as it can, her other wiping tar from her screen.

She shoves it forward.

Against her own axe.

It digs deep into what little was left of that flickering eye,
the hatchet nearly disappearing entirely.



Her fist gets stuck.

Tar is weighing her other hand down.
Too much has sunk in.

She topples.

POLKA DOT: CROSS

 

It feels like the millionth time you've screamed one of your friends' names in horror.

????: MOVE IT

 

You just barely step out of the way as the bear rushes past you-

Tim's sword in one hand, and his knife in the other.

????: IT'S MINE

 

Both blades find their way into its head,
anywhere and everywhere he can find.

Leaks spring as new holes are formed,
the beast's loosing gurgling screeches as its own tar floods across its face.

It swings its head wildly side-to-side in an attempt to shake him off.

The bear plunges the sword deep, using it as leverage as he stabs wildly with his knife,
unable to even see what he's stabbing now; all of it is coated in thick tar.



The beast leashes its head backwards with a half-whimper, half-scream.

The bear is flung off, tumbling across the snow, streaking it with black.




He doesn't get back up.

POLKA: I-
POLKA: N-NO-
 

There's no one left.

Just you.

The beast rises.

It looms over you.
It's limping.

Its face is a crater of tar with a mouth.
But somehow you know:
It can still see you.

It clacks its mouth at you.
Its teeth are jagged and broken, but still sharp as ever.



You're barely on your feet.
Your legs are shaking.


Without me-
You wouldn't be so lucky.

i
came all this way
made friends
struggled
struggled so much
i dont even know if im doing it right
or if this is going to be it
but i cant just


You spit tar on the ground, a small splatter amidst a horrible outpouring of pitch black hate. 

POLKA DOT: Have fun d-dying alone.

 

Your voice raises higher than you've ever screamed.

POLKA DOT: You fucking CREEP!

 

The beast roars back at you, breaking into a stumbling charge.

You grip Roulette's sickle with both hands.
Readying yourself.



Just as it would reach you,
you sidestep and swing with everything you have.


The top fourth of its head slips off.
It lets out a scream unlike anything you've ever heard.

You fall onto your back,
still clutching the scythe.

You can't swing it.
You can't even get up.
Your eyes are trying to close.

It's quiet.



Only for the ground to shake.

You turn your head in the snow.
Just in time to watch it drag itself up to its feet.

It hobbles over to you.
Clearly in pain.
Clearly half-dead.
Making the effort.

Just to kill You.



Dripping tar trails along the snow,
until it's dripping onto you.

You look up.

It's there.
A flickering spotlight illuminates through the top layer of tar on its face.

You can't move.
You can't move.
You can't move.

Its jaw opens.

And lowers down towards you.

POLKA DOT: H-hope I make you fucking sick-



 

You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the end.





...It doesn't play out.



A crashing impact, snow in the air.



You open your eyes just in time to see the toy monster blasted across the ground, leaving a trail of dirt and tar behind.



You try to follow it with your eyes, seeing it-


-the dark starts setting in-



-cleaved in half, across its midsection, tar spilling into a pitch black pool around it.




The dust settles, the combat barrier dissipating with it.




All you can see make out in the black is a figure around your height, dragging along a impossibly massive weapon behind.



W...who-







-and then it's all gone.

 

Lights twinkle in the distance.


Numerous light-up playsets dot the landscape,
along a sprawl of incomparably-massive shelves.

It's dark, save for the twinkling of night.




A camouflage-patterned robot sits near the edge of one of the shelves,
legs crossed.

Its head rests atop its claws,
which rest atop its scythe,
gazing at the patterned lights of the horizon.









A flashlight clicks on just nearby.

ROULETTE: Did you take care of it?
????: Taken care of.
ROULETTE: In the usual spot?
????: Well-hidden.
ROULETTE: You che-
????: Double and triple-checked.
????: No one is finding it anytime soon.
????: And we'll know ahead of time if anyone comes skulking around.
ROULETTE: ...I may go check one more-

 

A plastic claw touches the bot's shoulder.

????: You're doing it again.
????: Stop worrying.
????: The haul is safe.

 

The bubble timer toy, tilts its head down towards the bot.
It looks up at them.

????: Can you do that, Faysal?
FAYSAL: Den-
FAYSAL:  . . .
FAYSAL: I will try.
DENNY: Excellent.

 

They carefully sit down next to the bot, the colored liquid within their clear plastic shifting.

FAYSAL: ...I do not want it stolen again.
DENNY: We're smarter about it now.
DENNY: If anyone manages to find it, I'll give them a medal.
FAYSAL: I could stay up tonight. Keep watch near-
DENNY: Faysal.
FAYSAL: It would be no trouble-
DENNY: What did I ask?
FAYSAL: ...Apologies.
DENNY: Thank you.

 

Faysal sighs, its aperture closing as one of its claws taps the scythe.

DENNY:  . . .
DENNY: ...You're scary with that thing.
DENNY: You're becoming-
DENNY: ...Let's just say: I don't think anyone will be able to best you in the arena.
DENNY: Not anymore.
FAYSAL: I am trying.
FAYSAL: I do not want to be overconfident and lose.
FAYSAL: ...We cannot afford to lose the stability.
DENNY: You won't.

 

Denny raises their head, adjusting their neck.

DENNY:  . . .
DENNY: How do you handle fighting so often?

 

They shake their head.

DENNY: It makes no sense to me.
DENNY: I could not handle that pressure.
DENNY: And I don't think that-
DENNY: ...The feeling of hitting other people would scare me far more.
FAYSAL:  . . .
FAYSAL: I like it. Not-
DENNY: Sorry?
FAYSAL: Not the hitting- Not the hitting.
FAYSAL: I do not enjoy hurting anyone.
FAYSAL: ...I am-
FAYSAL: I am thankful the arena does not require killing.
FAYSAL: That I never have to do that. And that I usually do not have to use the blade at all.
FAYSAL: It is-
FAYSAL: It is harder, I have to be more creative with it to not severely injure anyone.
FAYSAL: But it is worth it. And I like that part. Being creative with it.
FAYSAL: That, and-
FAYSAL:  . . .
FAYSAL: ...I like fighting. Well. Dueling.
FAYSAL: There is something freeing about dueling.
FAYSAL: ...I do not know how I would even begin to put it into words.

 

There's a long pause.

DENNY: ...It makes sense now.
DENNY: Why some of the regulars call you that. 'Grim Reaper'.
DENNY: I doubt it's just the scythe.
FAYSAL: -I hate that nickname.
FAYSAL: The regulars only think it sounds 'tough'. Or- I do not know.
FAYSAL: ...I hate it either way.

 

The robot glances over at the plastic toy.

FAYSAL: You don't think that of me,
FAYSAL: ...do you?
FAYSAL: ...Are you afraid of me...?
DENNY:  . . .
DENNY: ...No.
DENNY: Of course I'm not. I know you.
DENNY: ...But I understand where it comes from.
DENNY: There's a...sense of you when you're dueling.
DENNY: You're more focused than any other combatant I've seen.
DENNY: You don't express. You don't showboat. You don't speak.
DENNY: You're focused, and calculating- not to be cruel, but, like a-
FAYSAL: Like a machine...?
DENNY:  . . .
DENNY: ...I suppose that's it.
FAYSAL: ...Apologies, if it-
DENNY: You're fine.
DENNY: I'm not afraid of you.

 

Faysal raises its head as if to speak again,
but says nothing, watching ahead once more.

The two of them sit in silence.

Idle whirring and other quiet noise plays in the air,
the colors in focus.

FAYSAL: The view up here is beautiful.
DENNY: That it is.
DENNY: Beautiful.





 

The distant lights



seem to grow brighter.







And brighter

and brighter




and brighter



and-








Faysal's lens clenches.
It turns its head away from the light.




The cot creaks.
The overhead lights are too bright.

????: ....oh!
????: It's moving!
????: Thank god you're alive-

An overly-friendly looking face looms over Roulette, soft, fuzzy blanket plush.

????: Your friends will be so happy to see you!


ROULETTE: ...Den...ny...?

















 

There's a strange smell.

Burning wood, like your campfire...

Fabric- no, fur, faux fur- with the scent of mud....

Spices, maybe. But none you've seen or tasted at Laurie's...

Something's pushed against your beak, a voice speaking gruffly.

????: Down the hatch.

 

Before you can react or even wake up properly, something pries your beak open and shoves hot, pungently strong liquid down your throat-

POLKA DOT: F-

 

You startle so bad that your entire body convulses, coughing and squeaking and wheezing. Your painted eyes snap open and you realize you're looking down at a gnarled, dark floor, made of weathered plastic designed to look like hardwood. It's covered in dirt and...you're not sure what else, but it's clear that wherever you are, it's not as clean as Laurie's.

????: ...
????: You've got ten seconds to tell me who you are and what you're doing here.
POLKA DOT: B-

 

You blearily look up, your head spinning-

In front of you is-



...a....rubber...duck....





....wolf?


The toy in front of you is molded rubber, his beak...muzzle...thing? contorted into a permanent smile and a lolling tongue that completely conflicts with the tone of his voice, his furrowed brow, and the fierceness in his beady eyes.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you see sharp, sharp teeth.

????: Timer starts now.