Work Text:
<•>
Riley didn’t know where they were. It was hard to see with half their vision fuzzing out on them. Blood dripped from their head, their nose, their mouth. They wiped their lips with the back of their hand, smearing the already-stained bandages wrapped around their skin with more red.
So much red down here. Too much. An amount that made Riley want to tear their own red-dyed hair out. Just one reminder after the other in this place that there was nothing but death and gore awaiting them.
They were alone, too, just like they had been before they set foot into this damned place. In the past, it was what they expected. Now it made their insides churn with fear.
Where were the others? Were they okay? Had something found them yet? Had he found them? They had enough of a thought sparking through them to hope that the toys were safe and away from wherever Prototype was.
It was cold and dark too. They hated it.
They thought they were in the labs. That’s what Poppy had said was below, right? His domain. Which boded oh-so-well for them.
Despite themself, they rolled their eyes with a snort.
They were glad they were away from Huggy at least. Riley had managed to outrun him somehow. And with their battered body it was nothing short of a miracle.
But they were still alone and lost, with no sense of direction.
They continued to wander down the stained path, faded artwork on the walls seemed to watch them from the dark as they passed.
As Riley passed a darker hallway, the metal pipe clenched tightly in their hands, a voice rang out.
They stopped and froze where they stood.
They risked a glance into the hall.
A quiet voice rang out from the dark.
“Angel?”
Riley stared into the dark with wide eyes.
That sounded like DogDay.
He was down here, too? Already? (They didn’t think it had been that long, but it wasn’t like they had a way to tell.)
After the initial shock, a realization slammed into their skull.
Why was he down here? It wasn’t safe! He could get hurt! He still didn’t have his legs, and lord knows you would need legs at the very least down here.
“Angel, are you there?”
Riley was about to reply when something in their gut churned.
This felt…wrong. Something was wrong.
“Angel? Please say something!”
Their voice rushed out of them before they could think about it.
“I’m here!”
“Oh, good,” a sigh, “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you.”
Once again, that feeling of wrong washed over Riley like a tidal wave.
“Uh…where are you?” Riley took a step towards the dark. Their gut screamed at them.
“I’m back here. I think something is blocking the way. I can’t get through to you.” DogDay replied. Something in the dark made a sound. It sounded like metal.
Riley took another step into the threshold of darkness. Their sweaty hands slipped slightly on the pipe they held in front of them. They readjusted their grip on it.
They couldn’t see much of anything in the dark, just a few silhouettes here and there. In the muddle of silhouettes, Riley saw one that looked like it had dog ears on its head.
So…it was DogDay then? Right?
Their gut continued to scream at them.
He seemed…taller than he should be. They thought even if he had his legs, he wouldn’t be as tall as they were seeing him right now.
Something is wrong.
“Hey, uh, Day…?” Riley started, turning their flashlight beam on and dragging it across the floors and sides of the room. They avoided where the voice was coming from.
“Yes?”
“D’you have yer legs?” It felt weird to say it outloud. But then again, everything was weird and gross down here.
“…” He went quiet for a moment.
Riley was about to prod at him again before he finally answered.
“I do!”
Riley stared at a wall, sweat beading on their forehead and mixing with the blood.
“When? Er—how?” Riley waved the beam around with one hand (and immediately regretted it when it made their head hurt) and gripped the metal pipe with the other.
“Oh…just a lucky find,” DogDay replied. His voice sounded off.
They were being idiotic. They were being stupid. They needed to leave. This was not DogDay.
“Really?” They prodded again at DogDay. They hoped he didn’t pick up on their unease. “Did…anyone help you find them?”
“Nope! Been on my own for a while by now.” DogDay hummed. Riley prodded at something on the floor as he did so. “But now I found you!”
That…couldn’t have been right. The last time Riley had seen DogDay, he was with Kissy. He wouldn’t leave her for anything. And he sounded too…enthusiastic about it. DogDay would’ve been more panicked at the least. (Sure, the dog had the most level head out of all of them (maybe tied with Doey), but in a situation like this? They were sure he would’ve at least had some sort of emotion besides trying-to-be-optimistic.)
“…Sure.” Riley’s jaw tightened, their teeth pressed together harshly.
Silence pressed in on them for some time. Riley didn’t know what to do except keep pretending to look for something useful in the room.
After their body had enough anxiety crashing through it to rival five college students filled up on coffee, they spoke. “Hey…could you do me a favor?”
“Yes?”
“Could you say my name?”
DogDay was quiet. Riley glanced at the silhouette when it looked like it might have tilted its head.
“What do you mean?”
“Jus’—” they let out a harsh sigh, “Just say my name.”
“…”
He was quiet for another moment.
“Angel?”
“No, no—not the stupid nickname.” Riley shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut. “My name, my real name.”
“…Why?”
Riley paused. They grit their teeth.
Moving the shaking flashlight beam down to the floor, they turned to face the darkness in the back of the room.
“What is my name?”
“Angel, I don’t think this is necessary—”
“If you really are DogDay, which I doubt you are, you can say my name.”
Riley took a step back, as if challenging DogDay—no—this thing in the dark to approach the light. To approach them.
“Angel,” the nickname felt wrong from the creature. “I swear it’s me!”
“Say. My. Name.” They demanded again. “I’ve told you my name—Say. It.”
Why were they arguing? It was obvious this wasn’t him. Maybe they were just hoping it was. That he would say something. Anything.
The thing in the dark did not reply.
Riley took a step back. Back towards the light of the outer hallway.
The thing in the dark sighed. It sounded so much like DogDay yet nothing like him at all.
“Angel, I swear it’s me!”
The same as before.
Riley froze, left hand gripping the pipe.
Something banged against the metal in front of them.
They took a step back.
“Angel, it’s me.”
“No.”
“No?”
Riley shook their head and glared at the creature in the dark. “No. You’re not DogDay.” They grabbed for the orange hand. “So don’t you ever use his fucking voice again, y’hear?”
With that, they shot a flare at the thing in the dark. Somehow, they fired through the bars of whatever was holding it back. They caught a glimpse of the goddamn Prototype himself.
More of his weird crab legs and his two needle-fingered hands.
He made a sound. A disgusting cacophony of voices and sounds that he had collected over the years. He spat curses at them, ones they didn’t care enough to pay attention to, before he slunk away back into the shadows.
Riley shouted their own curses after him. They yelled and cursed until their throat felt dry, until the Prototype was long gone, until salty tears were streaming down their face, finally released from the rage and exhaustion they felt.
How dare he—truly, how dare he?
How dare he take the voice of someone Riley trusted and try to use it against them. How dare he try and lure them into the dark with the shining voice of the only sun-like creature down in this hell. How dare The Prototype do any of this.
Riley was left heaving and shaking in the room, alone and alive. They scrubbed at their face.
The next time they saw him, they were going to tear his stupid needle-prick hands from their sockets if it was the last damn thing they did.
They finally stumbled away from the dark room and back into the hallways with the white fluorescent lights hanging above.
Their last fleeting hope from the event was that he wouldn’t use their own voice. The thought of him using it against the kids made their stomach tie into knots.
No. They’d tear out whatever vocal cords he had to make sure that didn’t happen.
<•>
