Chapter Text
Like the heat that unfurls from the collision of stars, tears stream down his face, leaving a burning in their wake. His hands shake as all Ranboo can do is stare at the shrivelled photo in them, having crumpled from the unrelenting pressure in which he clutches it. Through his blurry vision and the feeling of his burning cheeks, he can hardly focus on anything except for the boy in the image. Michael, he’s got Michael, his mind screams repeatedly like a broken record. The thought is akin to the screech of a worn out disc, because Ranboo knows he can’t do anything.
His body tenses, every muscle and ligament poised to act, but he is restrained. There is nothing he can do to save his own son. Frustration coils in his gut like a serpent, ready and waiting for the chance to reach the surface, but it never will. Ranboo is too levelheaded, too kind to ever act on such urges, even if the fate of his son lies in the balance.
Hence why he has no hesitation of stripping himself bare of everything but his clothes if it means if acting in accordance with Sam will do anything to help make Michael survive. The weight of the armour disappears, but in its place is guilt.
Ranboo hasn’t been seeing his son as much as he should’ve, he knows. If he knew then what would happen to Michael, he would’ve done anything to just crawl into that attic and hug him one final time. Maybe hear a cute oink that makes his heart melt, or just sit there, revelling in the warmth of a house in a place otherwise so cold.
As he reminisces upon the memory, his gaze hardens. Everyone around him is almost motionless, none of them willing to intervene, but he’s almost glad.
Yet, his anger at both himself and others permanently bubbles under his skin, maybe like a saucepan boiling but never to pop its lid, and it’s not just frustration that wracks his whole frame now. All of his emotions coalesce into this singular mass, two frontlines between anger and sadness, frustration and guilt, but he knows neither will win. In fact, Ranboo can feel the sword pricking into his back, staining his orange overalls with purplish blood.
He can also feel Sam’s eyes boring into him, even through his gas mask, and he grits his teeth. As much as he wants to do something, he can’t. If he does, he risks hurting Michael, and that means hurting Tubbo, and most of all, that risks his family. He can’t lose his family, because that means losing everything.
Even if he already knows that his fate has already been decided.
“Dream, if you don’t come back, Ranboo will die!” Sam hisses, and that’s when he starts to squirm. He struggles, kicking, clawing, but it’s all for naught. Ranboo doesn’t want to meet Death. He imagines it to be cold, cruel, unforgiving, like an endless winter that sucks the Earth dry of any vitality.
With the pressure of the sword at his back and everyone looking directly at him, into his soul almost, he stops struggling. He lets out an airy exhale through his nose as his eyes land upon Techno, Phil, Niki: the Syndicate, the group that took him in when he had nothing else, and their stares make his heart hammer. For once, Techno’s gaze isn’t steely, nor hard; instead, it’s almost watery.
A sob bubbles out of his dry throat, the names of his loved ones cycling through his mind like a mantra. It will do nothing, he knows. Dream will not come back for him. Dream hates him. Dream has resigned him to his death.
The tangy smell of iron fills the air, and Ranboo crumples to the floor. The sword impales him and his hand clutches at where it pokes through his stomach. He shakily brings the hand up to his face, the purple tainting his skin. The pain is but a mere afterthought as all he can focus on is the purple, filling his vision like a breach in nature.
His ears prick as his breaths become all the more laboured. A cry from Techno vaguely registers and the hand clutching at the image of Michael drifts aimlessly to the sodden ground. He barely clings onto his sole semblance of life, but Ranboo knows his grip is slipping.
“He’s got Michael,” he whispers, and those are his final words before he loses all feeling in his body. He knew that in going along with Sam that day, promising in blood that if he ever escaped, he’d die, that things would always end up like this. Ranboo, barely even an adult, dead, forgotten, only to be remembered by Death itself, or maybe even that would be too much to ask.
And everything remains of him in that world, even as everything goes black for the owner of that body.
When he wakes up, though, Ranboo is surprisingly warm. It feels almost like his home back in Snowchester in how comfortable it is, and he smiles a little. The faces of Tubbo and Michael, albeit blurry, flicker to the front of his mind for a moment.
It just reminds him of how—or why—he died, and that’s when his eyes snap open. Surrounding him is not his house in Snowchester, oh no. This is Death itself, in its most pure form. A void of inky blackness stares back at him. He knows he’s not where he’s supposed to be, but judging from the lack of weight in his chest, he knows one thing and that this is most certainly the Abyss.
From what he remembers from someone (he can’t quite remember who, but when is that any different from how he usually is?), it’s where souls are condemned and hailed. It’s where he will be judged. It’s where he will discover his fate for the rest of eternity.
Only is he pulled from his reverie when a feminine voice cuts through the haze, sharp and soft in a way he can’t quite describe. “You’re finally awake!”
Somehow, it feels like a hug, words wrapping around his very cortex and breathing life into something that was meant to be lifeless. His tense muscles relax and his shoulders fall to their usual position, instead of being raised. He can’t exactly see her, but from her voice alone, he feels comforted, maybe like a mother would do so to a child.
Yet, Ranboo can’t help but feel slightly nervous as the aftershocks of his death still run through his veins, and the fact this woman’s presence seems so very otherworldly is enough for the adrenaline to resume pumping in his veins.
“I—It seems I am,” he mumbles, looking down. When he does, though, his stomach only turns. He’s surprised he can even feel that as purplish blood continues to drip from the wound that killed him. There’s no pain, but he only grimaces at how grotesque it looks. He almost wants to stick a finger in, see how far the breach in his skin extends but he stops himself, shaking his head.
Somehow, even the very ‘ground’ he stands on is black, null of life. Everything is drained of anything that may make it hospitable, so he wonders how it can be so warm when everything seems to so utterly dead and Ranboo wonders if it’s the woman’s doing.
“You’d be right, dear,” the woman says and if Ranboo could see her, he imagines a kind face, smiling at him in a way that Philza might. The heat surrounding him flares for a moment, perhaps in tune with her emotions. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, but this is my domain you’re in. That isn’t to say everyone gets such… luxury, however.”
That makes him frown slightly, but if this lady is meant to be some sort of Deathly higher power than himself, he can only imagine how many awful people she must have encountered. Something about her strikes an oddly familiar chord within his brain, but he can’t quite place a finger on it. He ruminates on the thought whilst she continues.
“Ranboo, dear one, I can’t say you were meant to pass on this early,” she says softly. “But I will give you a choice. Either you try your chance in a limbo that will guarantee your revival so long as you survive, or you move on elsewhere.”
Questions flourish in his mind at her words. The fact she knows his name is worrying enough, but he reasons that since she’s most likely omnipotent as Death, so she must know everything there is to know too. That would include more than his name though; it would include his thoughts, his relationships, his acts in life that will condemn him to his fate.
But, if this second chance she offers really is sincere, Ranboo will grasp it with everything he has. It will be with the tightest grip he can possibly manage, and he will never let go until all his effort is sapped from tired muscles.
Sure, something about the circumstances surrounding the revival scenario sound odd, what with the vagueness, as well as the fact he has to survive is concerning. Though, if it means he can return home to his family, to his friends, Ranboo will do anything.
“I—I want to try limbo, please?” He says, phrasing it almost as if it were a question in that it’s with such little conviction. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see everyone again, he’s just scared of the unknown. His words jumble together, much like his fragmented memories and thoughts, and he wonders how she can understand at all.
“It will be hard, dear, but I know it’ll be worth it. In fact, you remind me of a lovely man I know,” she soothes, and Ranboo feels lightheaded all over a sudden. It’s not like his death, where the pain was a constant throb until he eventually ceased to exist. This is swift, and he only barely manages to put together the pieces as to who exactly he had been talking to this whole time.
“Trixtin, is— is that who you are? Or, are you just Death?” Ranboo whispers shakily. His consciousness flitters and his eyes barely remain open, but he remains steadfast if he can at least know what he’s getting into. No longer will he be grasping for this second chance in the dark if he can manage to divulge even a little information from her.
Almost ironically, a bright light blinds him for a moment and he lets out an instinctive cry. Endermen, although usually fine in light, hate it in sudden bursts and his retinas burn from the sudden intrusion. His jaw goes slack when he realises there’s a woman, clad in funeral wear, in front of him. In his offputtedness from the light, he realises he must’ve fallen as she offers him a hand.
Awkwardly, he clutches onto her hand with as little force as he can muster. Some part of him fears that if he grips too hard, he will anger her, risking his second chance. In the process, his body protests at the movement and it takes all of his effort not to cry out. Knowing that he’s dealt with far worse before steels his nerve though. He must persevere.
“I’m surprised you realised who I am, especially when your mind was half here and half in limbo,” the woman nods at him, leaving her hand on his shoulder. Despite being very tall himself, this woman still towers over him and something within him knows that this is probably not even her true height.
The thought really hammers in how this is Death he’s talking to, but she seems genuine enough that any discomfort he has dissipates as soon as it comes to fruition. Some part of him still fears what will happen to him, but he trusts that he will be able to persist. He’s a man who’s been through conflict and conflict and survived, so what’s one more?
“Ranboo, I’m afraid this won’t be as easy as you think. It will push you to your very limits, and that is the only information I can give you,” Trixtin averts her gaze from him and his stomach twists and turns on itself. It’s an anxiety that he’s never quite felt before in that he feels as if he’s about to jump off a cliff without knowing if anyone’s going to catch him.
As much as he is an introvert, Ranboo feels as though that if Trixtin is being so vague, this limbo must be dangerous and maybe, she does it to preserve what’s left of him before he plunges right in the deep end. A yearning still coils in his gut though— a fickle thing that wants, but will never get. He doesn’t want to do this alone. If it was his choice, it would be the Syndicate, Tommy and Tubbo by his side, but he knows that is impossible.
It doesn’t stop his heart from wanting someone to experience the unknown with him.
Though, that only causes Ranboo to grimace. As much as his loved ones being there would help, he doesn’t know anything about limbo. He would rather he died than them, and as much as he may yearn for them now, he knows that if he survives, everything will be fine. His mouth sets into a firm line with that.
I need to do this, he repeats in his mind and it’s enough for it to go silent besides the repetition of those determination laced words.
”Are you ready, dear?” Trixtin asks. After a few seconds, Ranboo nods and with a final squeeze of his shoulder, he feels his consciousness slipping. The last thing he sees is the void swallowing him whole, and his mouth contorts into a silent scream when the void begins to twist, turn and pull at his very being, molecules rearranging at its command.
The pain blooms across his body for a moment that is much too long for something that should only last a second, but he can’t feel nor see anything anymore by the time it goes away.
Instead, Ranboo peels his eyes open. Something feels so incredibly off with how darkness clings to him, obscuring his very vision but he doesn’t have time to ponder it when he hears footsteps that strike fear within his heart.
Instinctively, he breaks into a sprint. He knows not why he’s running with such effort on legs that feel so short, or why he’s so scared in the first place, but even as his breaths leave him in ragged bursts, he continues onwards. In the darkness, he can’t quite discern where exactly he’s going, but he keeps moving. He feels like prey almost, and whatever is causing him to feel so utterly threatened is most definitely dangerous.
So, even as his body begins to protest, his mind screams at him to never cease in his relentless movements. In fact, he only goes faster as the footsteps shuffling behind him seem to keep up pace so well. They sound heavy, and whoever they belong to chortles under their breath. If Ranboo slows, he could probably feel the hotness from their breath on his neck, and the thought makes his hands curl into fists.
From the pressure he applies onto his knuckles, he can only grit his teeth when more heat spills out from what was probably an open wound. It’s pushed to the back of his mind, though, as his attention moving from keeping his feet moving to the pain of his hand for that brief second is enough for him to fall to the floor.
Ranboo’s jaw collides with the ground, going slack, and more pain blooms across his body. A pained whimper escapes the confines of his throat, and his eyes widen from how childish it sounds. It’s too high-pitched, too shaky to be his, yet it sounds normal. What the fuck is happening, Ranboo screams to himself and he scrambles to get up again when he feels the footfalls behind him stop.
“Ranboo,” the voice draws out the ‘o’, mocking him almost and some part of him wonders how on Ender they know his name. “You know you can’t escape! Nobody else has, so why should you?”
A foot slams down on his back, ceasing all his efforts to escape in one swift motion. He bites his lip to prevent the sob leaving his mouth, fearing that if he were to show anymore weakness, he would most certainly be condemning himself to Death further. The thought makes him pause briefly (wasn’t he just with Trixtin?) but he doesn’t have time to question it if he wants to survive, he knows.
With that, he starts to squirm, even as the person continues to place more and more weight on his back. For some reason, it feels more pained than it usually would and coupled with how small he feels, he knows something is definitely wrong. Ender, the whole thing is!
Here he is, running for some nondescript reason besides instinct urging him to from some just as strange person who wants him dead in a body that feels so little. It makes his stomach drop a little, his hands a little clammier, and he finally manages to escape the clutches of the person. They let out a growl, cursing at him before following.
Ranboo briefly wonders how, by Ender, he’s managed to run so far. Usually, in another world, he would’ve been breathless, chest heaving within a few minutes no less, yet something here keeps him moving. Maybe it’s survival instinct, maybe it’s not, but whatever it is, he’s grateful for it.
The darkness of wherever he was finally becomes light and he almost lets out a little laugh. Never before has he been so excited to see the shitty hum of some old ceiling light. What intensifies his awe is the fact that the light is definitely beyond that of a lantern or torch and that thought causes him to push the fact that there was someone after him to the back of his mind for a moment.
That’s his downfall.
Ranboo’s scream gets caught in his throat as cold hands wrap around his neck. They constrict like some sort of snake and the owner of the hands force him to look up at them. The movement strains his neck and even as tears threaten to spill from his eyes, those that do don’t burn. He looks around in confusion, clawing at the hands around wrapped every so tightly around him.
Either this person—if he can even call them that—is very tall, or his suspicions upon him getting smaller are true. His legs kick against them profusely, eventually causing them to release their grip after one particularly hard kick. He scrambles to his feet immediately and despite being forced to the floor, the person clad in the bunny suit tries to reach out for his ankles in one last attempt to take him down with them.
Fortunately, he moves out of the way in time and as childish as it is, he sticks his tongue out at the person. He doesn’t know why he’s pushed to do it, but it makes him smile. It’s a nice respite from the adrenaline trip he’s been on ever since he ended up…here, wherever this is. To a kid from this world, it would probably be some sort of paradise of food and leisure activities, but to Ranboo, he’s utterly confused on how big and futuristic it looks.
The fact the place is so vast both concerns and excites him, striking some long forgotten chord of playfulness within him. He wants to explore, fanning the ember of childish curiosity in him in the process, but the thought of another person jumping out at him like that bunny creature did makes his gut churn.
Scanning the area, he puts his hand on his chin for a moment. For a place so large, it’s sure quiet— perhaps even too silent. For some reason, his mind thinks up images of sharp toothed monsters, towering over him but he just shakes his head. He used to be one such monster in another world, so why on Ender should he be so scared? One rabbit can’t be that terrifying.
In fact, when his head whips around to meet the mess of limbs he left, he only pales upon realising they had somehow disappeared. Not a single trace of them remained, even as Ranboo ran to where they once were, eyes blown wide in some futile search for answers. In fact, nothing was out of place— not even the most infinitesimal speck of dust on the floor was disturbed.
He frowns, the oddness of the situation digging a cavity into his brain and nestling there, a constant reminder that if he were to meet them again, he needed to hide for they were dangerous.
Danger, danger, danger, he repeats to himself mentally as the familiar thrum of adrenaline fills his senses, making him more aware, more prepared. His heart threatens to escape the confines of his ribs as he looks over the area meticulously. It’s unlike anything he’s seen before, but the infatuation is soon replaced with anticipative fear as if that person was any indication, he can only imagine what the rest of the place will be.
In fact, although Ranboo tries his best not to let him linger on his curiosity too much, he can’t help it with how everything is so unfamiliar. The neon scrawl on the walls looks far from Enderian—closer to Common if anything—but somehow, he can understand it clearly.
Written on the walls are the words Glamrock Freddy, and it sounds ever so odd. Rolling it around in his mind leaves behind a feeling he can’t quite place— anticipation, maybe. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him is excited to find out what lies behind the door he’s deemed the most safe.
Even if he hesitates to push the thing open at first, he does so anyway, his jaw throbbing a little when it falls open. In front of a mirror lies what looks to be something he can only compare to one of Techno’s polar bears with their similar bulk and ears. Instead of the usual white colouring, though, this thing is yellow and blue, covered in odd patterns and items he can’t quite figure out the purpose of. On its wrists are bands with sharp points, but they don’t seem to be built for harming anyone, or anything for that matter.
In fact, this thing seems too friendly to hurt even a fly, even in its…sleep state? With how unmoving it is, Ranboo can only imagine it’s sleeping. To study it further, he creeps up to it, shakily reaching out to touch its body. The material of the body alludes him, but the glossiness mystifies him.
The technology here is nothing like he’s ever seen before. He’s so utterly entranced that the fact he can see his reflection in both the mirror and the animal is only an afterthought. When he does realise, though, he lets out a scream so loud that he fears that the rabbit will come after him again.
Instead of his usually two-toned colour scheme, Ranboo is pale, but not actually white. He’s the shade that Tommy is, a shade that’s akin to a Builder. As he picks at every differing intricacy from his usual appearance, he realises he mostly looks the same, excluding his skin, tail and ears.
What he does lack, though, are his abilities. He can’t teleport. He can’t speak to his particles. He can’t even make those odd guttural noises to communicate. Upon further examination of himself, face pressed almost directly up to the mirror, Ranboo stares. There’s a chubbiness to his cheeks he never quite saw before and that’s when realises he’s not an adult anymore.
He is but a meagre child against this strange facility that he still has no clue what will do to him. He’s without his abilities, anything that will grant him an upper hand.
(“To make things fair,” Trixtin might say.
But he won’t accept that. To him, it’s unjust. If she was meant to help, why would she make him a Builder and strip him of all his abilities?)
Ranboo staggers backwards, the person staring back at him scaring him even more so than that rabbit. Unexpectedly, he ends up falling into the lap of the bear and its chest cavity opens. The thing envelopes him and for a moment, he thinks he’s about to die. That is until he realises that even though it’s a bit tight, it feels more secure than the outside. It’s warmer too, more comfortable and his tired body somehow falls into a restful sleep.
“…It seems I’ve not completed my recharge cycle,” a voice cuts through his exhaustion and Ranboo yawns a little. He immediately becomes aware upon his head hitting against the metal, making a loud clang. In the process, the bear—or whatever it is, since from what he remembers, animals are made of flesh, not metal—stands up, and it causes its unhinged chest cavity to fly open.
He falls out, landing on the floor in a mess of limbs. Groaning, he blinks for a few moments to regain any semblance of his grip on reality, only for his breath to get caught in his throat when the thing is right in front of his face.
A blue light extends from its eyes in what must be a scanning motion for some reason, and Ranboo yelps, scrambling away. “What on Ender are you doing? Leave me alone!”
The thing ignores him, and any childish curiosity is pushed from his mind as he glares at it. Instead, it continues to speak. ”It appears I can’t recognise you from the guest list in my system. Would you mind telling me your name, so when I can connect to the main database either, we can find your parents?”
Parents.
Ranboo can’t remember his parents. Here, he will most certainly have none for he’s not meant to be here, but at home, it’s the same. Briefly, he remembers hushed voices, soft and kind, but obviously not kind enough to look after their son. At least he thinks they’re his parents, since they’re the only adults he remembers from his childhood. It’s not like his memory is reliable either, so he just rolls his eyes.
“I don’t need my parents!” Ranboo snaps at the thing, glowering up at it. It doesn’t share his contempt as only concern lies within the surprisingly expressive eyes. What doesn’t help too is that he’s still completely confused as words like system and database, in all their unfamiliarity, frazzle his brain. He slams a hand down on the floor in some childish display of anger which only causes the frustration in his gut to flare.
A hand comes down on his head, and he instinctively closes his eyes. Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel quite as threatened anymore as the thing stops being so close, but still applies that…comforting pressure. Ranboo sighs and decides to give his name. He learns that it’s called Freddy and it matches the name he remembers from outside. What still confuses him is what exactly it is.
”What even are you?” Ranboo squints up at it, and his shortness becomes all the more apparent. Even if he were his usual self, this thing would probably still tower over him and would definitely be stronger. That makes his throat burn with nausea, and he thinks briefly back to that rabbit.
”I mean, I’m an animatronic, if that’s what you’re after,” it says thoughtfully, though with it sounding masculine, Ranboo’s not sure what to refer to it as. With its warm voice, it seems almost sentient, but the thought makes him frown a little.
“Animatronic?” He questions aloud, and more questions form to create a turbulent sea in his mind. The waves crash against the sides of his skull, and it’s probably why it begin to throb. He massages his temples, a motion probably odd for a child to do. The bear—or, Freddy, he should say—looks at him with unmoving eyes, and it’s almost disconcerting how real they look.
For someone who doesn’t really know how these machines work, he feels like it’s some sort of experiment gone wrong. He simply cannot calm down—even after the bear giving him some form of comfort help before—as everything remains so unfamiliar, so confusing, and Ranboo doesn’t know what to do.
Maybe it’s him being a child that plays with his emotions, maybe it’s not, but he buries his head in his hands regardless. Tears stream down his face and he hiccups a little. Freddy crouches to meet his eyes, but Ranboo just draws his knees up to his chin to make himself smaller. Before, that was practically an impossible feat, but now, it feels like the only thing that can make him feel secure when everything else is so wrong.
“Are you okay, superstar?” Freddy asks, apprehensively, cautiously. It’s with a care he’s only had directed at him by someone like Tubbo or Philza, and he starts to cry more. He wants home, not this. The cheesiness of the nickname doesn’t even register in his head, even if some part of him not completely terrified scoffs at it. Instead, he questions himself.
How long will he have to be here?
What happens if he dies?
His family, his friends— will they even be okay?
”I—I don’t know,” Ranboo murmurs, shaking. Freddy doesn’t draw any closer, and he’s almost glad for it. He doesn’t think that the claws that thing has would be any good in a hug with this frail body.
“Can I do anything to make it better?” It—or, he, since this bear is most certainly more than an object—asks, and Ranboo nods.
“How—how do I leave?” He says simply, hopefully.
“I’ll need to direct you, but first, you’ll need to help me leave this room. This might help.” Freddy says, and his chest cavity opens. Ranboo’s brows furrow a little because how on Ender is this gift box going to help him?
His question gets answered for him as the bear motions for him to open it. In a flurry of party poppers, a watch lies inside. He looks over it for a moment, snapping it on his wrist and smiling a little. Freddy explains how they can communicate through it—and Ranboo is glad it’s a quieter option, because he doesn’t really want to think of what might happen if anything else discovers him making too much noise.
With that, Ranboo moves to leave the room to help Freddy leave until he hears footsteps.
Not heavy, unlike the rabbit’s. These are light, calculated, but the voice— that is the same. Ranboo’s hand on the door handle gets all sweaty and he rushes back up to Freddy, scrambling into his chest.
“You’ve gotta hide me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes blown wide from fear. “That—that thing, it tried to kill me!”
”What? But that’s only Vanessa. She’s a security guard, she can help—”
”Shut up!” Ranboo snaps, wincing a few moments later at how harsh it sounds, only to be glad they were quiet.
“Come out, kid. I only want to help you!” Vanessa says, shining a bright light through the curtains that separate them from her. He still wonders how on Ender she knows his name, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.
In that moment, everything feels too loud, and by Ender, even his own breathing is! Somehow, he’s able to move Freddy into a corner where Vanessa’s light can’t penetrate. In, out, in, out, he thinks as Freddy eyes him with concern. Ranboo ignores the silent pressing for an explanation, and just nods when he leaves.
When he does, he enters a vent. Some childish part of him almost wants Freddy to guide him through the vent as the darkness clings to him, but he bites his lip before he can act on impulse. As he moves, the vent rumbles with each motion, but the animatronics he observes from above seem much too engrossed in themselves to care about him.
Some part of him knows that things will change soon if he isn’t careful.
On the other side of the vent is the room he was in before when being chased by…whoever it was. When he’s barely thirty minutes into this place—and has already nearly been killed—Ranboo ignores it to preserve his own sanity. Regardless, a shiver runs up his spine and he swears he’s being watched, even if every animatronic he walks by is either too busy playing an instrument, gussying themselves up, or simply in a place he can’t see them.
Specifically, it’s the one that makes a lot of noise that makes his gut churn—clawing, grunting, groaning, every sort of violent sound, it made it. Ranboo hopes he won’t have to come across it any time soon.
Scurrying past them, he ends up at a desk with another gift box. This time, opening it up reveals the photo pass and he’s never felt so happy to see such a thing before. Even if the animatronics seem less focused on themselves now, he pays little heed to it if it means he can stop scaring himself.
“Freddy, I’ve got the photo pass!” Ranboo announces as he runs up to the bear. Somehow, the animatronic’s friendliness must’ve rubbed off on him because usually, it takes quite a lot for Ranboo to trust someone after everything that’s happened to him in that other world. Maybe it’s his child brain playing a part too, but the achievement earns him a pat on the head and it makes him smile goofily.
Staring up at the bear, he thinks the two of them could make a pretty great team as he scrambles inside Freddy’s chest cavity, feeling a bit bare when he’s not in the machine. The safe feeling it provides is definitely born from instinct in that it provides a space with four walls— or at least, two sides, a back and a chest that opens up. To Ranboo, it’s enough.
Maybe being revived and going home won’t be as bad as he thinks, even if he’s now a Builder.
After going down a flight of stairs that sticks out like a sore thumb in a building otherwise technologically advanced, Freddy suddenly stops. Or, maybe it’s Ranboo’s ears pricking at the sound of Vanessa calling out his name that makes him too stop instinctively.
“Ranboo, I’m sorry, but you need to go to first aid,” the bear cuts through the tense atmosphere Vanessa induces, confusing him even more, “I feel as if you’re broken.”
”What? No, I’m fine!” Ranboo snaps, flailing inside the chest cavity in another childish display of frustration. His finger pricks against the some wires, and he bites his lip to prevent the barrage of curses from leaving his mouth. As much as it bleeds, Ranboo suffers in silence for the most part as his protests go mostly unheard. He’s but a back seat driver as Freddy moves through the utility tunnels.
For a moment, he ceases in his thrashing to instead stare outside through Freddy’s eyes. He doesn’t quite know how he does it, but he chalks it up to the advanced technology. His eyes widen upon light blinding him for a moment, and that’s when he knows Vanessa has found him—or, them, should he say, as Freddy isn’t meant to be out of his room either.
“Ranboo, get behind that curtain!” Freddy directs quickly and he follows the bear’s command without question. The thought of the rabbit lady or security guard—whatever she is—spurs his heart into hammering against his chest, threatening to escape in a flurry of red. He grimaces as Vanessa shuffles into the room, light scanning, searching for him.
He retreats further behind the curtain, only allowing a pinprick of her light to filter through. Intently, he listens to the conversation between her and Freddy. Apparently, the reason the bear wasn’t meant to leave was because of a ‘malfunction’—whatever that meant—but something about the way she phrases it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Then, she starts talking about him and that’s when his stomach drops.
”That kid, he has no documentation, y’know? He doesn’t even exist!” Vanessa says with exasperation and for a moment, Ranboo swears Freddy’s eyes flicker to him, or at least his general vicinity. He fears that doing so will reveal his location to the woman and he will die.
“Well, that’s certainly…odd, but if I see him, I’ll let you know,” Freddy replies after a beat, and Ranboo’s heart rate slows. The adrenaline in his blood eases as Vanessa turns away, taking that awful light with her. When she does, he tears the curtain back and rushes into Freddy’s arms. It’s not even a hug (and he doesn’t even know why he does it), but it fills Ranboo with something, something warm that makes him a little calmer. So, he revels in it whilst it lasts, knowing it will be limited in a place that’s already tried to kill him once.
Even if Ranboo’s chest feels a little empty after, the bear places him back down on the ground after a few moments, instead turning to comb through the many drawers. His brows furrow in confusion, wondering what on Ender the bear was doing.
“Aha!” Freddy exclaims, turning back towards him. In his paws are two plasters, but he just tilts his head.
“What are you doing?”
”Ranboo, when I said you were broken, I just meant you looked injured. You’re covered in bruises and cuts!” The bear says with concern, bending down to his height. He places a plaster on his finger and chin and even though his neck still throbs, Ranboo is appreciative of the help nevertheless.
Ranboo just wishes that every other animatronic in this place was the same. He and Freddy get separated due to the bear needing to charge, but without him, he can’t deny he feels a little lost, especially when everything is so unfamiliar. As he stumbles through the utility tunnels, he comes across two of the animatronics.
The first he encounters is the chicken animatronic. When he saw her upstairs playing on her guitar, Ranboo almost thought it to be cool. The way her mechanical hands strummed the guitar expertly reminded him of Wilbur in a way, and it made his heart pang in that moment.
Now, he just regards her with disdain.
With her blocking his way, Ranboo has to think sharply, and he’s glad for the instincts still in tact from his adulthood as it allows him to think quickly. He pushes over a stack of cans as a distraction, and without his matured instincts, he thinks that he probably would have died escaping that rabbit.
Creeping past the chicken, however, is perhaps his worst experience yet.
Grime mucks the walls of the bathroom, all brown and greasy. He can tell it hasn’t been cleaned in years, and for some reason, scrap metal lies in a pile on the other side of the room. When he witnesses the chicken eating it as though a delicacy, he grimaces in disgust, even if some part of him deems it relatable somehow.
And not even five minutes later, the alligator animatronic crashes through a barrier specifically made for it—at least from the sign—and that thing.
That thing terrifies him.
Unlike the chicken, this thing is a predator. Its snapping jaws and sharp claws threaten him at every turn he takes to escape it. If he thought Freddy’s claws would be painful if digging into his skin, he knows this thing would deliver a bite made to kill.
Ranboo doesn’t want to die, so he runs, even if his muscles scream in protest. The thing easily keeps up with him, though, and for every step he takes, it does too, with even more weight and strength behind it than he could ever hope to match. Lungs struggling, Ranboo begins to tire at a rate even his little body can’t escape. It doesn’t help when the chicken joins the alligator in its chase of him too.
Somehow, though, he’s able to clamber up the stairs with enough speed that the heavy animatronics simply cannot compete. He’s tempted to turn around and stick his tongue out at them, but they’ve already caught up with him by the time he talks himself out of giving into his impulses. When the alligator is within reaching distance of him, Ranboo finally reaches the security office.
In, out, in, out, he thinks as carbon dioxide leaves him in ragged breaths, inhales filling him with oxygen. It revitalises his body, and he scans the desk for what he came here for. His eyes land upon the pass that enables him to access the cameras and he lets out a sigh of relief.
He’s unable to relax for long, though, as his ears prick upon the screech of metal yielding to pressure meeting his ears. Eyes widening, he swiftly turns his watch on to check the cameras, only for him to pale. The alligator animatronic punches the door with all it can, and if he stays in here any longer, Ranboo knows he really will die.
That’s not to say he knows what to do though. The doors locked him upon his arrival, and won’t let him escape until three minutes have passed. Every second that passes on the timer is one more to damnation, he knows, as he feels beads of sweat on his forehead.
Yet, when he hears the warm voice of Freddy in his ears, Ranboo’s muscles refrain from tensing so much. The bear speaks softly to him, soothing him, and even if one part of him complains at the coddling probably erasing his maturity, the majority of him chooses to enjoy the moment.
When the doors finally open, Ranboo runs on tired legs. The alligator doesn’t follow, but the chicken does. This time, though, she’s much easier to evade and then he’s at the front of the building.
It’s a ‘pizza plex’, according to Freddy. Ranboo can’t say he recognises what either of those words are, but since the doors are practically inviting his exit, he pays little attention to the thought.
Instead, he rushes up to the doors, laughing, only for a disembodied voice to interrupt him. “The PizzaPlex has closed. Nighttime protocols activated.”
Not knowing what any of those words mean, Ranboo just pales. Trixtin was right, he thinks bitterly, it won’t be as easy as I thought. All he cares about is going home, seeing his family and friends again, but with only the beginning being as dangerous as it was, he can only shake in horror of what’s to come.
He has six hours more of this hellhole according to Freddy, and Ranboo doesn’t know if he’ll survive, even if the bear is there to support him.