DxrkHexrtMuses

https://dxrkhexrtmuses.tumblr.com/muses

3 literally had to tear apart debris to get to where 1 was, and the entire time he felt this sinking feeling in his chest, and he hoped it was in fact wrong.

Once through, he forced himself through, kind of getting stuck but managing to get free and stumble into the room, or, wherever this was, he was fast, and his eyes searched everywhere for any sign of 1 frantically, until he saw him.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as he took a better look and moved closer, his nonexistent heart sank. His eyes wide, his breathing heavy and then finally, right in front of 1’s limp body, his legs buckle and he just drops to the floor.

He’s staring now, eyes wide, just sitting there in disbelief, feeling himself grow smaller and smaller, feeling what once would have been a heart sinking so far that it felt like he didn’t have one anymore. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and now all he did was shake softly as he stared, not moving, eyes wide.

1 was dead…No…

TW: Gore

He didn’t even notice tears streaming from his brand new mask, hell he didn’t even notice anything. He was just about to snap, until his stare catches…movement? He inhales, watching in awe as 1’s body began to heal and rebuild itself, not believing his eyes yet again, and still stayed there sitting in that trance-like state until 1’s breath pulled his swimming mind back to reality.

His violent eyes widened, and as soon as he heard his other self speak, his metallic spidery legs claw at the floor below, causing scratches and scrapes and yes he did trip but he didn’t care. The next thing to happen is 3 literally snatching up 1 and holding him in a tight hug, his eyes closing as he finally held the younger him close. Yes he did see the strange emptiness of 1’s face without the mask, and yes that did startle him, but what scared him more was believing he had lost 1.

3 gently holds his other self, and his head drops onto 1’s shoulder and grips 1’s head close, slightly clenching at the multicolored hat, then he began to shake. It was slight, but it was noticeable, but this time he stayed quiet, he stayed still, holding 1 close, completely ignoring all of 1’s questions and concerns. To be honest, he didn’t care about any of that, he was just so happy that 1 had actually lived. More or less.

@ms-spider-ludwig

Well that threw him for a loop, he was just about to walk up to Molly with his brand new look to show her, until THAT question arose.

His violet eyes eye here with full confusion as he slightly raises the eyebrow on his brand new mask, complements of 1 himself, as he kind of goes quiet to try and think of an answer.

“Uhhh…Who..?”

The poor girl, well his mom missed his late father, and now one of his metallic back legs gently tapped the floor as he continued to think and attempt to comfort her.

Hesitantly he starts, continuing to poke his pointer fingers together as he spoke, “Well…um…I uh…I think you have a…right to miss him?”

Prototype: yes catnap?

Catnap: why are you on the ceiling

*prototype who has his spider legs stuck in the wood*

Prototype:... I am stuck

Soft tremors could be felt throughout the factory as a large mechanical jester spider made his way through a hallway closest to the area where he hid to rest, relax and maintain repairs on himself. Today though, in the bag strapped onto his waist was a brand new voice box, for none other than Rei, the one he had come to enjoy being around. Despite having the present for the little catnap, he looked as if he was searching frantically for something, and in reality he was. Rei had wandered off again like he normally did, even though the Prototype himself told him that his company was welcomed and he didn’t mind having him around. He so badly wanted to give this new voice box to Rei but for the life of him couldn’t find his little friend anywhere.

This was about the time that his thoughts wondered to the darker end. What if that doctor had him? He felt his teeth clench in anger and in worry, the only thing his permanent grinning face could do as he searched for the cat, his movements clearly showing he was getting more worried by the second. It was about this time when he had bent down to a small vent to look in, it was small, and he’d seen Rei enter here a few times to hide so he decided to try and squeeze himself in to get a better look.

His giant spider-like mechanical body crouches and the two front legs and two back legs help him scoot deeper into the vent as his upper half was now laying on the cold vent floor. He used his hands and legs to squeeze himself in and scoot forwards inch by inch. He barely fit and that would become apparent when one of the red smoke tanks strapped to his side snagged on something inside the vent that he couldn’t see past his enormous hulking lower half, and then when he tried to move more, he was met with a gentle jerk and stayed in place.

His head lifts then turns to look at what had happened. His needle like hands flat against the metal of the vent, his jester hat’s bells jiggling as his head moved to examine what was wrong and why he was stuck. Funnily enough, the Prototype had gotten pretty far into that small vent, about halfway in until he’d gotten stuck, and now, he was extremely hoping Rei or anyone else wasn’t around to see this. Rei especially wouldn’t let him live it down, his other selves would be in the floor laughing.

A loud groan of mechanic frustration escapes him and he attempts to back up, pushing forward with his hands, hid front legs pulling until a scrap sound then he swiftly stops. Oh no. He stays still, and just lays as he examines himself again. He couldn’t see a damned thing in here, so instead he felt around with one of his hands.

He felt around his waist, up his lower back to where one of the tanks was, the one lodged into the vent and did in fact feel something had punctured it. He hisses. Well wonderful! Great…If he moved now the whole vent was going to fill with smoke. He didn’t want that and in his anger, his other hand clenches into a fist and he slams it to the side of the metal vent hard.

The resounding boom echoed through the vent, causing Poppy to jump and spin around multiple times, looking for the cause of the reverberation she could feel coursing through the enclosed space. When there was no immediate threat present, she frowned, considering the situation - that had not only been loud, violent, it was close. A little too close for her comfort. What had it been...?

"Poppy, you good?"

She jumped at the tinny voice, then groaned softly, rubbing her face in embarrassment before she reached for the walkie-talkie on her back, a very lucky find in a factory where so much was broken and useless, pulling it around so that she could speak into as she walked.

"I'm fine, Roscoe," she sighed, choosing to pretend the sceptical grumble from the receiver was just interference, "There should be an exit nearby, so just keep moving and I'll see you there, okay?"

There was no response for a few seconds, then a loud sigh and a mumbled acceptance comes through the walkie, her angel less than happy about the situation. Unfortunately, there wasn't much either of them could in that moment except to keep on moving and meet back up as planned. Perhaps they wouldn't be in this situation if her angel...

No, no, stop thinking like that, Poppy, just keep moving.

She sighed, increasing her slow walk into a jog when she saw the upcoming bend that she knew led outside, eager to get out of the vent as soon as possible, be reunited with her angel and get back to their work. Still, the vents weren't too bad, they were convenient methods of travel and while there was always the possibility of running into smaller toys, at least she was safe from the much larger, more aggressive toys that roamed the factory.

When she turned the corner and came face to face with her fears in physical form, she realised just how wrong she was.

"AHH!"

The Prototype.

The Prototype - well, one of them (she was still trying to process that news), and not the one she had made steps towards reconciliation with (another situation she was still getting her head around) - was in the vent, completely blocking off her access to the exit she'd been hoping on, and he looked... furious. Everything nerve in her body was telling her to run, flee, head back the way she'd come from...but she couldn't.

She was frozen.

After closing the bag back, his hand joined the other holding him up, and now he sat to think of the best way to try and get out without seeping red smoke in. He thought of removing the tank, but he couldn’t even reach it to get to it, he definitely couldn’t move, so at the moment he was stuck. Wonderful…Stuck in a vent. He was still in his thoughts, trying his damndest to find a way out of this mess, when a noise pulled him out of his plans.

His head lifts, the bells jingling as he moved this way and that to see what caused said noise, until he recognized it and that silhouette. OH great…SHE was here. Wonderful! Just fucking wonderful! Of course SHE’D be here to see him in this mess. Yet again his anger swelled so much that he looked as if he was shaking in that vent. The noise from him shaking was a gentle rattle with an added jingling of bells, his seen front legs creak to adjust themselves to help him stay as upright as he could in that vent.

His needle like claws dig into the vent floor, metal on metal scraping could barely be heard, because he himself didn’t want sore…eardrums…he didn’t have any anymore but still..as he stared at Poppy. Oh yes Poppy of all people was in here seeing him stuck in a vent, and that thought made him so angry that he thought of just ending her right there. But he couldn’t. No. Even though he’d toyed with her, hurt her, tortured her, he couldn’t just end her, and he knew definitely why.

Thankfully though, Poppy had nothing to worry about this time. He wasn’t searching for her and nor did he care about her being around him now. Well he did but that was just because she was seeing him in such a vulnerable state. It was completely throwing off his aura he had so carefully maintained, especially around Poppy.

He glares at her, and a soft growl escapes his voice box, then he chose Ollie’s voice to mainly mess with her but also convey his severe dissatisfaction at the current moment, well, her being here certainly didn’t damage his massive ego, “Oh great it’s POPPY…Wonderful! ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL…” his words struggled to stay in Ollie’s voice so he’d guessed being stuck in the vent was finally getting to him, “What are you going to do? LAUGH?! Well get it ALL out now! GO ON…”

Except...that... wasn't happening? He... wasn't moving? He absolutely knew she was there, she could see the way his eye immediately fixed on her, heard the growl and the caustic words, about - wait, laugh? What did he...?

A thought, as ludicrous as it was, crossed her mind, and she took a single step closer, still staying out of reach but enough to try and see around him...which...didn't really help, considering he was taking up so much of the vent that there wasn't even the smallest glimmer of light from the opening. With a gulp, she turned to look him in the eye, no small feat considering she was utterly terrified...

"Are..." the words catch in her throat, taking a few seconds to come through, "I - I won't laugh, I won't, but... are you...stuck?"

Before a reply that she doesn't really expect can come, there's a chirp from her back, static from the walkie as it kicks in and -

"Flower, where you at?"

The voice doesn't just come from the receiver this time, she can oh so faintly hear it. Close so very close she was SO CLOSE Stumbling back, taking a breath, she reaches and pulls the walkie to her face, hands trembling as she moves.

He stayed silent, only his gentle shaking body could be heard as anger still continued to swell inside him. As much as he hated being stuck, he couldn’t just stay here, and now the urge to get out was skyrocketing in his mind. A small issue was an understatement and what he did next was going to make sure that this…Roscoe, the Butcher, was going to know exactly why that is, and as much as he despised it, his only best bet on getting out of here was asking Poppy and her Angel for help, even if the words he was going to choose sounded extremely rude.

Being extremely careful as to not puncture the tank more, his hand reaches out to carefully snatch the walkie from Poppy’s tiny porcelain hands and his needly thumb claw jabs onto the call button, almost breaking it as he thrusts the device close to his face to better talk to it, the Angel definitely was going to recognize him, and the voice he was using but at the moment, this seemed to be his only option at getting out safely.

“Get me out of this fucking vent…” came his words then begrudgingly added a please for good measure. He had to be extremely nice and polite, because this was the only option he had at the moment. Yeah the Angel, the Butcher, was definitely going to laugh but he had to get out, to get away and find Rei. He had to give Rei his new voice box. Yet again, he currently didn’t care about Poppy or her Angel at the moment.

He didn’t care to catch or torture or anything to them. He only wanted out, and as he held that walkie in his hand, his good eye glared into space, forward and away from Poppy as he waited what felt like hours for a response. It was weird though, even though it sounded like the Ollie voice, why was it that he sounded almost…older? And why did he just cuss? The Prototype never cussed, but apparently this was one of the very few times he did. It was just so weird sounding to hear come from his voice box.

His other hand held him up, and slightly he felt his clawed fingers digging into the metal of the vent again and the hand holding the walkie began shaking slightly, mainly because of how hard he was pressing the call button but it lifted off after a bit to let Roscoe speak next, whenever the bastard decided to that is. His mechanical legs, the only ones seen currently squeaked their movements and adjusted themselves yet again, and now his back legs did the same. His middle legs did nothing because clearly they were squished against either sides of the tiny vent, but that growing pain he was feeling in those legs were not felt at all during his quiet fit of rage and aggression.

Except...those needle fingers don't reach for her, instead grabbing at the walkie talkie and dragging it back to himself. She blinked, a myriad wave of emotions going through her mind before eventually just settling on a very basic dumbfounded. Despite caution telling her otherwise, that the Prototype was in an even fouler mood that he usually was, she took a step forward, if just to listen to the conversation that was starting in front of her.

Had...had he just admitted to being stuck? Admitted it to THE ANGEL?? He'd asked the ANGEL, the man he'd been so hellbent on killing as brutally as possible, for HELP??? And had said PLEASE????

Poppy was starting to think that this whole situation was some kind of fever dream. That was the only way to explain how...ludicrous it was. And yet, here they were.

Neither she nor the Prototype have to wait long for a reply.

"You."

A single word, but even Poppy can't help flinching internally at the sheer vitriol that it was laced with. This was...not going to go well.

"Where's Poppy?"

"I'm here!" she shouted, then paused before continuing, "I...did say we have a situation..."

"No kidding, Flower. Now, why the Hell should I help your deeear brother get free?"

Poppy looked from the walkie to the Prototype, then back again, chewing at her bottom lip in consideration. After a moment, she sighed.

"Please, Roscoe, just...give him a hand."

There was no response from the other end - at least, not a verbal one. Instead, there was a mumbled curse, then the sound of boots meeting cement, a sound that amplifies through the vent as it started to come from both the walkie and from nearby, drawing closer rapidly until -

"This is more than a "small issue", Flower."

She can't see him, but she can hear him, no longer from the walkie but from directly behind the amalgamation bone, metal and pure fury that was blocking her way out. There was another curse from the other side, much louder this time, accompanied by the sound of movement further back in the vent.

It took only a few minutes it seemed when he heard movement above then behind him, and his head would lift and turn to the noises as they approached. That moment he heard words behind his massive hulking body and his head turns back to Poppy, his hand holding the walkie talkie stretched out toward her again, but instead of grabbing her, he placed the walkie at her feet just close enough to where she’d be able to grab it. Since the Butcher was behind him now, they no longer needed to communicate via talkie.

His hand pulls back to join his other hand holding him up and his head turns to listen to the movement behind him, his eye now directed to the wall of the vent where the tank was lodged. He stays silent and behind him, his back legs move away from the said man now close as to better help him get a look at what the problem was. Though he did remember that is was extremely dark in here so he’d have to point it out.

As his back leg closest to where said tank was moved, stretching down against the floor of the vent and away from Roscoe, a crackle from his voice box, still in the Ollie voice throughout this entire conversation, it seemed he was going to keep it for as long as possible, though his voice sounded significantly softer, there where clear indications that he was not at all too found of anything currently happening. He was also strangely compliant. No matter how much he despised it.

“The red smoke tank is punctured,” he admits, his head lowering slightly as he continued, “Can you see it?”

And it was. Even though he himself couldn’t see it past his own bulk, the said tank that was punctured was the one closest to his waist on the right side, where the same right back leg was currently laying to give Roscoe as much leverage as needed to see said tank. If looked at closely though, anyone would be able to see what looked like a long gnarled spike of metal lodged into the middle most area of the tank, where the gas was being held, and if moved, the entire vent was going to be gassed immediately.

The last snarky remark from the Butcher made a staticy sarcastic laugh come out of his voice box though and he fired back with his own snarky comment, “You won’t be stabbed if you help me..Consider yourself lucky that at this moment I’m being..NICE..”

"Why were you in the vent...?"

Behind the Prototype, Roscoe tensed up, watching the movements of the metal limbs with suspicion and concern, all too aware of how easily those limbs could crush him against the metal walls of the vent if the Prototype decided to no longer play nice. Slowly, he inched his way up and past the limbs so that he could try and see the aforementioned tank.

Ah, there it was.

Oh, that's...that's not good.

"Yeah, I see," Roscoe growls as he inspected the punctured tank, assessing the damage, "SOMEHOW you've managed to lodge a spike straight through the central panel, where the gas is..."

He stopped, thinking, hands hovered over the tank but didn't dare make contact...not yet.

"I can try to dislodge it, then quickly use something to try and cover the crack until we get you outta here..."

Poppy looked up at that, frowning.

"If you do that, some gas is still gonna get through, and you're right in it's way..."

There was a moment of silence, and then -

His head turns back to original position to looking at the right side of the vent again, his two front legs adjusting themselves to get much more comfortable as he felt Roscoe getting closer to his backside. Though he couldn’t see him, the left back leg twitched but he forced it further away from the Butcher to force the strong urge to crush him against the vent and be done with him away from his mind. No matter how strong the urge to just hurt him, he cared more to get out. To get them out safely which was an extreme first for him, mainly not having them huff hallucinogenic fumes, himself included. Unlike Catnap, he wasn’t immune to the red smoke, so if it entered his system, he’d be hallucinating also, not just Poppy or Roscoe. Which why he mainly growls out his disapproval at the Butcher’s plan of dislodging the tank from the spiked metal from the tank and hopefully being able to catch the seeping gases in time as to not up this tiny place in smoke.

Angrily, his head shakes, causing the bells on his hat to jingle violently, one of the metal bells clanking against the side of the vent. He stops though, as his clawed needly fingers clenched hard into the metal floor again, but he was extremely careful as to not make a sound while his nails scraped larger marks into the metal. As much as he’d enjoy seeing the Butcher in a hallucinogenic state, he himself did not want to experience that at all so he speaks up, showing just how irked he was at the whole idea.

“NO! No I will NOT let all of us inhale ANY of that gas! There HAS to be ANOTHER way!”

He was hissing now, as his mind raced to find solutions to his problem, to their problem, only each and every outcome was irritatingly pointing to and ending on Roscoe’s idea that was surely going to get them smothered in hallucinogens. No..NO! No no no NO! And one hand clenched and slams against the right side of the vent again, then shakily he drops the hand back again to hold himself up. His head now stares at the floor of the vent, his body shaking as he still searched his mind for solutions that all led to an extremely undesired outcome, then it sounded like he was breathing heavily.

Each and every outcome only led to that? Why was it that all those solutions led to that? He then goes silent now, staring at his clenching needly fingers, eye moving as he thought then finally speaks, he’d have to comply, he had no choice, none of them did.

Though it’s not like he knew it did as he was currently passed out at the moment. He looked horrible from the interaction, his mask almost nearly broken, his upper body’s clothes all messed up torn and sliced up from their fight. Well mainly 1’s success.

Thankfully he was asleep, resting and what was strange was him breathing, and even though his broken mask’s eyes were permanently open, the single eye was dull, like a light inside was shut off. No. He wasn’t dead, clearly he was breathing, and if anyone found him in such a horrible state, they’d be able to see that.

That massive jester spider just slept, recovering from the immense pain pumbling his body currently. One of his hands over his waist just above of where his wait met the rest of his mechanical spider legs in a resting position, his other hand laid gently beside him. Nothing moved on him, except for a slight twitch of one of his legs now laying on the cold floor, he looked almost lifeless if it wasn’t for those subtle movements.

At first he wasn’t even sure if it was his new friend. He was slightly confused and concerned about the injuries. But after a quick glance he could tell it was his friend. He scampered over in a hurry, then leapt up on the Prototype’s chest. The little cat paws and nuzzles the Prototype’s arm, trying to wake him up.

Another long silence filled the area again. Then came the soft breaths from the massive jester spider. Though his face mask was extremely cracked and broken, it still held firmly in its position. His one good eye was out, so instead of light coming from it, it looked as if he had two hollow holes, which made him look like just another lifeless thing.

After a long while, the light in his good eye came to life and now he was staring at the ceiling, then suddenly through the pain, he felt a soft pressure on his chest. He made a gentle staticy gasp, then lifts his long needly fingered hand, he was extremely weak but at least now he had the strength to pet Rei, and pet he did. His hand plopped onto the cat’s tiny head and he gently stroked it to nonverbally tell the cat he was ok. He only knew it was Rei by the touch as soon as his hand was on the cat’s head.

He stared at the ceiling as he did this, petting the mini catnap in silence, his body and now his face burned with immense pain and agony as he weakly just laid there. He would have smiled wider if he could, but his face was killing him, but in all reality, it was nice Rei came to comfort him, which made him like the cat even more.

Soft tremors could be felt throughout the factory as a large mechanical jester spider made his way through a hallway closest to the area where he hid to rest, relax and maintain repairs on himself. Today though, in the bag strapped onto his waist was a brand new voice box, for none other than Rei, the one he had come to enjoy being around. Despite having the present for the little catnap, he looked as if he was searching frantically for something, and in reality he was. Rei had wandered off again like he normally did, even though the Prototype himself told him that his company was welcomed and he didn’t mind having him around. He so badly wanted to give this new voice box to Rei but for the life of him couldn’t find his little friend anywhere.

This was about the time that his thoughts wondered to the darker end. What if that doctor had him? He felt his teeth clench in anger and in worry, the only thing his permanent grinning face could do as he searched for the cat, his movements clearly showing he was getting more worried by the second. It was about this time when he had bent down to a small vent to look in, it was small, and he’d seen Rei enter here a few times to hide so he decided to try and squeeze himself in to get a better look.

His giant spider-like mechanical body crouches and the two front legs and two back legs help him scoot deeper into the vent as his upper half was now laying on the cold vent floor. He used his hands and legs to squeeze himself in and scoot forwards inch by inch. He barely fit and that would become apparent when one of the red smoke tanks strapped to his side snagged on something inside the vent that he couldn’t see past his enormous hulking lower half, and then when he tried to move more, he was met with a gentle jerk and stayed in place.

His head lifts then turns to look at what had happened. His needle like hands flat against the metal of the vent, his jester hat’s bells jiggling as his head moved to examine what was wrong and why he was stuck. Funnily enough, the Prototype had gotten pretty far into that small vent, about halfway in until he’d gotten stuck, and now, he was extremely hoping Rei or anyone else wasn’t around to see this. Rei especially wouldn’t let him live it down, his other selves would be in the floor laughing.

A loud groan of mechanic frustration escapes him and he attempts to back up, pushing forward with his hands, hid front legs pulling until a scrap sound then he swiftly stops. Oh no. He stays still, and just lays as he examines himself again. He couldn’t see a damned thing in here, so instead he felt around with one of his hands.

He felt around his waist, up his lower back to where one of the tanks was, the one lodged into the vent and did in fact feel something had punctured it. He hisses. Well wonderful! Great…If he moved now the whole vent was going to fill with smoke. He didn’t want that and in his anger, his other hand clenches into a fist and he slams it to the side of the metal vent hard.

The resounding boom echoed through the vent, causing Poppy to jump and spin around multiple times, looking for the cause of the reverberation she could feel coursing through the enclosed space. When there was no immediate threat present, she frowned, considering the situation - that had not only been loud, violent, it was close. A little too close for her comfort. What had it been...?

"Poppy, you good?"

She jumped at the tinny voice, then groaned softly, rubbing her face in embarrassment before she reached for the walkie-talkie on her back, a very lucky find in a factory where so much was broken and useless, pulling it around so that she could speak into as she walked.

"I'm fine, Roscoe," she sighed, choosing to pretend the sceptical grumble from the receiver was just interference, "There should be an exit nearby, so just keep moving and I'll see you there, okay?"

There was no response for a few seconds, then a loud sigh and a mumbled acceptance comes through the walkie, her angel less than happy about the situation. Unfortunately, there wasn't much either of them could in that moment except to keep on moving and meet back up as planned. Perhaps they wouldn't be in this situation if her angel...

No, no, stop thinking like that, Poppy, just keep moving.

She sighed, increasing her slow walk into a jog when she saw the upcoming bend that she knew led outside, eager to get out of the vent as soon as possible, be reunited with her angel and get back to their work. Still, the vents weren't too bad, they were convenient methods of travel and while there was always the possibility of running into smaller toys, at least she was safe from the much larger, more aggressive toys that roamed the factory.

When she turned the corner and came face to face with her fears in physical form, she realised just how wrong she was.

"AHH!"

The Prototype.

The Prototype - well, one of them (she was still trying to process that news), and not the one she had made steps towards reconciliation with (another situation she was still getting her head around) - was in the vent, completely blocking off her access to the exit she'd been hoping on, and he looked... furious. Everything nerve in her body was telling her to run, flee, head back the way she'd come from...but she couldn't.

She was frozen.

After closing the bag back, his hand joined the other holding him up, and now he sat to think of the best way to try and get out without seeping red smoke in. He thought of removing the tank, but he couldn’t even reach it to get to it, he definitely couldn’t move, so at the moment he was stuck. Wonderful…Stuck in a vent. He was still in his thoughts, trying his damndest to find a way out of this mess, when a noise pulled him out of his plans.

His head lifts, the bells jingling as he moved this way and that to see what caused said noise, until he recognized it and that silhouette. OH great…SHE was here. Wonderful! Just fucking wonderful! Of course SHE’D be here to see him in this mess. Yet again his anger swelled so much that he looked as if he was shaking in that vent. The noise from him shaking was a gentle rattle with an added jingling of bells, his seen front legs creak to adjust themselves to help him stay as upright as he could in that vent.

His needle like claws dig into the vent floor, metal on metal scraping could barely be heard, because he himself didn’t want sore…eardrums…he didn’t have any anymore but still..as he stared at Poppy. Oh yes Poppy of all people was in here seeing him stuck in a vent, and that thought made him so angry that he thought of just ending her right there. But he couldn’t. No. Even though he’d toyed with her, hurt her, tortured her, he couldn’t just end her, and he knew definitely why.

Thankfully though, Poppy had nothing to worry about this time. He wasn’t searching for her and nor did he care about her being around him now. Well he did but that was just because she was seeing him in such a vulnerable state. It was completely throwing off his aura he had so carefully maintained, especially around Poppy.

He glares at her, and a soft growl escapes his voice box, then he chose Ollie’s voice to mainly mess with her but also convey his severe dissatisfaction at the current moment, well, her being here certainly didn’t damage his massive ego, “Oh great it’s POPPY…Wonderful! ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL…” his words struggled to stay in Ollie’s voice so he’d guessed being stuck in the vent was finally getting to him, “What are you going to do? LAUGH?! Well get it ALL out now! GO ON…”

Except...that... wasn't happening? He... wasn't moving? He absolutely knew she was there, she could see the way his eye immediately fixed on her, heard the growl and the caustic words, about - wait, laugh? What did he...?

A thought, as ludicrous as it was, crossed her mind, and she took a single step closer, still staying out of reach but enough to try and see around him...which...didn't really help, considering he was taking up so much of the vent that there wasn't even the smallest glimmer of light from the opening. With a gulp, she turned to look him in the eye, no small feat considering she was utterly terrified...

"Are..." the words catch in her throat, taking a few seconds to come through, "I - I won't laugh, I won't, but... are you...stuck?"

Before a reply that she doesn't really expect can come, there's a chirp from her back, static from the walkie as it kicks in and -

"Flower, where you at?"

The voice doesn't just come from the receiver this time, she can oh so faintly hear it. Close so very close she was SO CLOSE Stumbling back, taking a breath, she reaches and pulls the walkie to her face, hands trembling as she moves.

He stayed silent, only his gentle shaking body could be heard as anger still continued to swell inside him. As much as he hated being stuck, he couldn’t just stay here, and now the urge to get out was skyrocketing in his mind. A small issue was an understatement and what he did next was going to make sure that this…Roscoe, the Butcher, was going to know exactly why that is, and as much as he despised it, his only best bet on getting out of here was asking Poppy and her Angel for help, even if the words he was going to choose sounded extremely rude.

Being extremely careful as to not puncture the tank more, his hand reaches out to carefully snatch the walkie from Poppy’s tiny porcelain hands and his needly thumb claw jabs onto the call button, almost breaking it as he thrusts the device close to his face to better talk to it, the Angel definitely was going to recognize him, and the voice he was using but at the moment, this seemed to be his only option at getting out safely.

“Get me out of this fucking vent…” came his words then begrudgingly added a please for good measure. He had to be extremely nice and polite, because this was the only option he had at the moment. Yeah the Angel, the Butcher, was definitely going to laugh but he had to get out, to get away and find Rei. He had to give Rei his new voice box. Yet again, he currently didn’t care about Poppy or her Angel at the moment.

He didn’t care to catch or torture or anything to them. He only wanted out, and as he held that walkie in his hand, his good eye glared into space, forward and away from Poppy as he waited what felt like hours for a response. It was weird though, even though it sounded like the Ollie voice, why was it that he sounded almost…older? And why did he just cuss? The Prototype never cussed, but apparently this was one of the very few times he did. It was just so weird sounding to hear come from his voice box.

His other hand held him up, and slightly he felt his clawed fingers digging into the metal of the vent again and the hand holding the walkie began shaking slightly, mainly because of how hard he was pressing the call button but it lifted off after a bit to let Roscoe speak next, whenever the bastard decided to that is. His mechanical legs, the only ones seen currently squeaked their movements and adjusted themselves yet again, and now his back legs did the same. His middle legs did nothing because clearly they were squished against either sides of the tiny vent, but that growing pain he was feeling in those legs were not felt at all during his quiet fit of rage and aggression.

Except...those needle fingers don't reach for her, instead grabbing at the walkie talkie and dragging it back to himself. She blinked, a myriad wave of emotions going through her mind before eventually just settling on a very basic dumbfounded. Despite caution telling her otherwise, that the Prototype was in an even fouler mood that he usually was, she took a step forward, if just to listen to the conversation that was starting in front of her.

Had...had he just admitted to being stuck? Admitted it to THE ANGEL?? He'd asked the ANGEL, the man he'd been so hellbent on killing as brutally as possible, for HELP??? And had said PLEASE????

Poppy was starting to think that this whole situation was some kind of fever dream. That was the only way to explain how...ludicrous it was. And yet, here they were.

Neither she nor the Prototype have to wait long for a reply.

"You."

A single word, but even Poppy can't help flinching internally at the sheer vitriol that it was laced with. This was...not going to go well.

"Where's Poppy?"

"I'm here!" she shouted, then paused before continuing, "I...did say we have a situation..."

"No kidding, Flower. Now, why the Hell should I help your deeear brother get free?"

Poppy looked from the walkie to the Prototype, then back again, chewing at her bottom lip in consideration. After a moment, she sighed.

"Please, Roscoe, just...give him a hand."

There was no response from the other end - at least, not a verbal one. Instead, there was a mumbled curse, then the sound of boots meeting cement, a sound that amplifies through the vent as it started to come from both the walkie and from nearby, drawing closer rapidly until -

"This is more than a "small issue", Flower."

She can't see him, but she can hear him, no longer from the walkie but from directly behind the amalgamation bone, metal and pure fury that was blocking her way out. There was another curse from the other side, much louder this time, accompanied by the sound of movement further back in the vent.

It took only a few minutes it seemed when he heard movement above then behind him, and his head would lift and turn to the noises as they approached. That moment he heard words behind his massive hulking body and his head turns back to Poppy, his hand holding the walkie talkie stretched out toward her again, but instead of grabbing her, he placed the walkie at her feet just close enough to where she’d be able to grab it. Since the Butcher was behind him now, they no longer needed to communicate via talkie.

His hand pulls back to join his other hand holding him up and his head turns to listen to the movement behind him, his eye now directed to the wall of the vent where the tank was lodged. He stays silent and behind him, his back legs move away from the said man now close as to better help him get a look at what the problem was. Though he did remember that is was extremely dark in here so he’d have to point it out.

As his back leg closest to where said tank was moved, stretching down against the floor of the vent and away from Roscoe, a crackle from his voice box, still in the Ollie voice throughout this entire conversation, it seemed he was going to keep it for as long as possible, though his voice sounded significantly softer, there where clear indications that he was not at all too found of anything currently happening. He was also strangely compliant. No matter how much he despised it.

“The red smoke tank is punctured,” he admits, his head lowering slightly as he continued, “Can you see it?”

And it was. Even though he himself couldn’t see it past his own bulk, the said tank that was punctured was the one closest to his waist on the right side, where the same right back leg was currently laying to give Roscoe as much leverage as needed to see said tank. If looked at closely though, anyone would be able to see what looked like a long gnarled spike of metal lodged into the middle most area of the tank, where the gas was being held, and if moved, the entire vent was going to be gassed immediately.

The last snarky remark from the Butcher made a staticy sarcastic laugh come out of his voice box though and he fired back with his own snarky comment, “You won’t be stabbed if you help me..Consider yourself lucky that at this moment I’m being..NICE..”

Walking down in the vents, Jackco looked at his small bag of items. A needle and a rather huge thing of thread for repairs, a knife that Jackco himself made to defend against others, and a small container. This container held Poppy Gel, in which it was only until recently he was running out. The scientists used the gel onto him, but only in very tiny doses, because any other amount could've caused some unwanted damage. This made Jackco practically immortal, like Poppy and the Prototype.

Jackco had stayed in the vents ever since the Hour of Joy. It gave him an advantage. Since he was so small and nimble, he was able to explore and now know the vents like how he knows almost nearly every single project placed under here. Even if he came out of the vents, it was short as physically possible, with it being fully planned, just like anything else...

He heard the Prototype. He was nearby where Jackco was right now.

Yes the Prototype definitely was nearby, on the other side of the opening of the vent or in this case Jackco’s exit. He himself hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary, and now he was in his usual hiding place doing repairs on one of his legs.

The wrench in his long needly hand was being used to crank and tighten a loose bolt on one of his leg joints and at the moment that was all that was heard. He never noticed the movement in the vent above his hiding spot nor did he notice anything around his current placement because he was way too into making sure all the blots stayed tight.

His lower half was in sitting position, which looked strangely cute with how he was sitting, though this time his back legs were the ones that were crossed as he was repairing one of the front ones at this moment. Beside his hulking mechanical spider body, there were various tools stretched out around him within arms reach and now he had just placed the wrench down to grab a screwdriver to tighten a much smaller screw inside one of the open bolts. His upper half was curved unnaturally to slouch over his work and he leaned in to get a much closer look at the tiny screw as he tightened it, only for the screw to snap which caused him to grunt in dissatisfaction.

Almost immediately, he began turning the screwdriver in reverse and very slowly it began moving out. It was a while though, and he still didn’t notice anything around him as after a few minutes the broken screw finally pops out and he gently places it down right beside him then goes to find a screw long enough to replace it with. His needly fingers moving all types of screws and nails this way and that in search for a much better replacement. His head and eye now searching also, and softly one of the bells on his that that was resting on his shoulder fell into hanging position at the movement, making the bell jolt then jingle.

He remembered the time he met the Prototype. He couldn't remember if it was before or after the Prototype became, well, the Prototype... But he memorized being spooked and almost nearly crying. He was a crybaby when he was still a child, a human child. The memories of how to feel those emotions have long been gone, just now driven by some little spark of life to hold him.

And the Poppy Gel, too.

The spark of life wasn't one he made or wanted to use. It wasn't a hope to see everyone safe and sound, it wasn't greed to take it all and be able to be the most fit... It was just a drive. An autopilot. One that Jackco wished he could take off. Maybe, since he just recently ran out of Poppy Gel with his last dose being today's... He could die. It's not like he matters much, anyways.

He was about to flick another back into the pile when there was a sudden shake and rumble of tiny feet in the vent just above his head, and now his head snaps upward, his eye glaring at the vent as he immediately stopped his work.