Chapter Text
When an adventure comes to an end, it is said that we tend to look back on how it unfolded, the obstacles we overcame — from the most insignificant to the most formidable — and the friends we made along the way. We tend to remember that time with melancholy before moving on toward our destiny. At least, that's what Angel believed when she first entered this death trap to find her missing colleagues. She would venture where no one had dared to go, find her friends and the others, and save them. She would be welcomed as a heroine and they would all joke together as if no time had passed since their disappearances.
How naive she had been. There was no way the Playtime Co. employees who had disappeared so long ago could still be alive, trapped deep within the factory. Yet a small part of her still hoped that her friends hadn't met a tragic end, that they hadn't died while she was still alive and far from the scene of the accident. So, when she received the letter with the cassette, she told herself that there were survivors, that her friends, whom she had so callously abandoned, were still there waiting for her to free them.
She packed essential supplies, things to help her navigate the labyrinthine complex, a flashlight, food, and water, then got in her car and sped toward the factory. Although she didn't consider herself naive, even when her life was threatened by monsters, she prayed for their survival and hoped they had escaped. Then came the revelation: The Hour of Joy, a complete massacre where the oppressed turned against their tormentors. It was then that she realized they were gone, that she would never see them again, that she had survived while they had been killed and devoured…
She helped Poppy and joined her plan to get them out of the factory not out of pure compassion, but because a small part of her felt guilty for having killed children. Every time she rested, she could hear Huggy crying, Mummy pleading desperately and Catnap remaining silent as she watched his servant offer his body to his god. She hated herself for her actions, but she couldn't die until she had kept her promise to bring them back from their tomb. She persevered, moving forward with determination even when the Doctor slowly broke her sanity; even when Doey died at her hands after she had allowed the deaths of countless innocent souls; even when Poppy, the only person she had ever believed in, abandoned them; and even when...
Now, it was all over. Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Legs, Catnap, the Doctor and the Prototype were all dead. But at what cost? All her friends and allies had met their end in the depths of the factory. She had gone down alone to save her colleagues, only to return alone, covered in blood and with her sanity shattered. The Doctor had been right; she hadn't been able to save anyone. Now that the damage was done, she gazed at the ruins of the imposing building, which was now shattered like her. Behind its apparent beauty, the factory's façade revealed the truth: a place destroyed, where death permeated every component.
Kissy Missy, DogDay, Doey and even Poppy had died in their quest for vengeance and freedom. They all shared one thing in common: a desire for liberty, to break free from the chains of the past and move towards a brighter future. Despite the pain, betrayals and hunger, her determination had prevailed over the master of this place; his corpse lay beneath the rubble. Only the skull representing his head protruded from the debris of his immense body, constructed from the components of his victims. It stared down at her with its extinguished, mechanical red eye, filled with immeasurable hatred.
Rain fell on the smoldering ruins, extinguishing the embers and washing away the wounds on her body. Blood trickled down her frail limbs. The prototype's mark, still fresh, marred her face, a constant reminder of her sins. As the rain continued to fall heavily, she reflected that, despite the pain and suffering, she had also experienced moments that she would cherish forever. Tears of sorrow slid down her face, mingling with the raindrops. As her vision blurred, she reflected that even though the monster was dead, it had taken its hostages with it to the grave.
Anticipating her intention to save the children imprisoned in the laboratory, the Prototype had driven all the toys to suicide before she could deliver the fatal blow, killing the orphans in their sleep. They had been locked away in vats since the Hour of Joy, plunged into a dreamless sleep and condemned to an eternity of slumber. But the Prototype had eliminated everyone, orphan, enemy and ally alike, from this shattered tomb; only she remained.
She collapsed to the ground, the weight and responsibility evaporating. She still had regrets, but in that moment, she felt at peace. Her GrabPack, destroyed after the final battle, crumbled onto the concrete floor of the parking lot, a pool of water and blood beginning to form beneath her. She could feel her time was approaching; her body no longer obeyed her and her perception of the world was slipping away.
It was in this dark abyss that a glimmer appeared through the night-time darkness. A figure approached her battered body. She couldn't quite make out who it was, but she felt a sense of peace and warmth in their presence, as if all her worries were evaporating. The figure spoke in a soft voice, like a mother speaking to her child, and it had an almost angelic quality.
"You who have overcome all obstacles, you who have fought for the happiness of children whose hearts have been broken by adults, you who want to change destiny, I come to make you an offer. I will allow you to return to the past and have the opportunity to change their destiny and bring them peace. But be warned: you cannot change the fate of those who have become mere playthings. However, you can change their hearts, bringing them joy and comfort and breaking the chains that hold their soul’s captive. You can change the destiny of these poor souls."
Her brain, still reeling from recent events, struggled to analyse the words of this mysterious figure. She was unsure whether believing the hallucinations of her troubled mind was a wise decision. But if poppies can turn children into toys, then perhaps an angel has the power to reverse the flow of time, if she isn't a figment of his imagination. "I would very much like to accept, but first I'd like to know why you're helping me."
"Because you're special, even if you yourself don't realise it. Besides, all the sacrifices you've made more than justify my choice. You and these children deserve a second chance, a new beginning," she replied gently. "Then I accept. If I can save them, if I can absolve myself of my sins and be forgiven, then I must try." Although the being before her radiated a blinding light that prevented her from discerning its contours, she could make out a faint smile.
"I'd better warn you, you'll only get one chance there. If you die or are captured, there will be no going back. Furthermore, your memories will be sealed, and only certain triggers will allow you to recover them." Her voice held a hint of warning, but despite the danger and constraints, she had made a promise that she fully intended to keep. "If I can survive this undertaking and reach the end without dying, I think I can survive any difficulty that comes my way."
“If that is your wish, then so be it. May time and space bend to my will! May this soul be brought into the past, given strength, and allowed to change the destiny and fate of these children!" As the mystical figure spoke, a column of light formed and drew her in, carrying her away. She felt her consciousness fading, and the last words she heard from the angel were a prayer for her success.
January 8, 1989 (6 years and 7 months before the Hour of Joy):
Angel's House:
Angel didn't consider herself particularly independent. She ate only supermarket products, was rather clumsy and easily cut herself. As the alarm clock announced another day of work, she tripped over a can left by her bed and fell to the floor. Cursing her disorganised state, she grabbed the first clothes she could find and got dressed quickly, hoping to arrive at work on time and not make a fashion critic faint at first glance. As she checked in the mirror that she was wearing her clothes the right way around, she was astonished to see a huge scar across her face. After quickly scanning her body, she realised she had others of all sizes scattered across it.
"What a disaster! How on earth did I end up with so many scars? I don't remember ever having this many! I know I'm absentminded, but this much... What did I do last night? Ugh, I can't remember!" She stared at the three deep scratches covering her back. She tried to remember how she'd got them, but all she could remember were images: red smoke, purple and a blood-curdling smile. She didn't understand where these memories came from, but the more she tried to delve into their origin, the more a visceral fear gripped her. She could almost feel its breath on her back...
The second alarm snapped her out of the spiral she was falling into. Deciding that dwelling on this scar was too risky, she checked the others. After several minutes of contemplating the various marks crisscrossing her body and fighting off a panic attack, she put on her mandatory Playtime Co. uniform, which thankfully covered all her scars. Except for the one across her face: a long, thin scar that started above her left eye and stopped just above her mouth.
Another scar of unknown origin, the origin of which she would have to invent. Seeing how late it was, she decided to postpone investigating those marks and focus on getting to work on time. After finishing getting ready and checking that her uniform concealed all the other scars, she left her small house, got in her car and headed towards the factory, which was located in the nearby forest. As the forest landscape passed by her car window, she wondered why the company's founders had decided to build their main factory in such a remote location.
The factory, whose façade had always intrigued her with its aesthetic choices, was bustling with activity. The chimneys belched steam as usual, and the car park was full of cars and employees hurrying to work. This familiar sight gave her a strangely pleasant feeling, like seeing a long-lost friend again. As she approached reception to clock in, she could feel the employees' eyes fixed on her face and, more specifically, on her scar.
Dodging the receptionist's questions about her new appearance, she made her way to her workplace and her colleague. She scanned her employee badge at the turnstile to confirm her presence, then entered the circular room at the heart of the factory, which connected the various buildings and branches. Several members of staff were busy repairing an electrical fault in the room, along with the circuit breaker and other electrical equipment. They were cursing the idiot who had requested that part of Playtime's electrical system be modified for GrabPack use.
Seeing smoke billowing from the room, she moved quickly away and came face to face with the statue of Huggy Wuggy in the middle of the room. A shiver ran through her, she felt her heart race, and phantom pains shot through her ribs. But, at the same time, she felt a strange empathy for the statue and, putting her unfounded fear of statues to one side, she approached and hugged it.
As she continued to hold the strangely soft statue close, she heard a cough behind her. Embarrassed by her childish behaviour in front of her colleagues, she quickly moved away from the statue; she could have sworn its eyes were following her. She turned around and saw her friend Marcas Brickley, watching her with amusement while the various employees tried their best to suppress their laughter.
"I know Huggy is a cute plush toy that everyone wants to cuddle, but I didn't expect this from you," he said, holding back a laugh. She simply glared at him and pouted, though a small smile betrayed her true feelings. "I know my behaviour is childish, but I swear I don't know what came over me. The moment I saw him, I had an irresistible urge to hug him and never let go, as if my life depended on it." She tried to justify herself in vain. As her colleague headed towards their work site for the day, she hurried to catch up with him, wondering about her sudden urge to cuddle giant mascots.
Since they often worked together, they quickly became friends and were usually assigned as a pair to repair the machines. As they walked through the factory's many corridors, Marcas decided to revisit his earlier statement. "Perhaps one of your youthful instincts has resurfaced?" he said jokingly. "Well, I don’t remember having a comfort object or wanting hugs when I was little."
"It's not a big deal, but you need to be careful about your behaviour around the factory. Employees who behave strangely or suspiciously often get fired, and I wouldn’t want my best assistant to get let go." She laughed at the man’s teasing tone. "I’m pretty sure I’m the only person you see outside of work. But I’ll be careful." They continued walking and entered an elevator that took them to the production area. As they stood alone inside it, listening to the Playtime jingle through the speakers, Marcas finally decided to ask a question that had been nagging him since morning.
"I know this might seem an intrusive question, but may I ask how you got the scar on your face?" At this question, she panicked and tried to think of a believable lie to explain her scar. "You know, knives and I… well, you can’t control everything in life. Accidents can happen so easily. Oh, look! We’ve arrived at our destination." She rushed out of the lift, stopping her companion from asking any more questions. As he hurried to catch up with her, a team of employees dressed like firefighters rushed into the lift, pushing him aside in the process. He finally caught up with her, and together they gazed at the immense underground production machinery and the numerous employees busy working on it.
Although the revolutionary toy-making machine invented by Elliot Ludwig reduced the number of people needed to produce a toy, the factory's numerous automated systems often needed repairing. This was Marcas and Angel's job; she was responsible for repairing machines that broke down. Furthermore, due to the company's new policy of making work more 'fun', a large proportion of the machines had to be adapted to the GrabPack system, a considerable undertaking given the vast size of the factory. To accomplish this, all maintenance teams were deployed to ensure smooth production.
Marcas and Angel were in the water treatment room, next to the train station that served as a junction between the factory's two production floors and Playcare. Marcas signalled to the walkway supervisor, asking him to guide them to section C2, where the conveyors transporting Bunzo Bunny's toys were located. These conveyors transported the toys from the assembly workshop to employees who were responsible for delivering Playtime products to various Playtime-affiliated stores throughout North America.
They crossed the walkways and headed towards the room containing the stopped conveyors. They had to intervene because one of the conveyors had reversed direction, causing toys to crash to the floor below. This malfunction had interrupted toy production, so the problem needed to be fixed immediately. That was why she had been urgently summoned to the factory on one of her well-deserved days off.
However, as she walked down the clean, deserted corridor leading to the room, she was struck by a feeling of doubt. She didn't know why, but she felt sure that something was missing from the corridor. Trying to focus, she had a flash of memory of a toy sign. Out of curiosity, she asked her friend, "Marcas, wasn't there a Cat-Bee toy sign here?" He looked at her for a moment with a confused expression.
"How am I supposed to know? This is my first time here for maintenance. Why put a sign in a place where hardly anyone goes? It would be a waste, and all the signs are upstairs where customers are most likely to see them. Are you sure you're OK?" he asked, concerned. "I'm fine. I'm just a little dizzy. It'll pass quickly," she said, her voice betraying a hint of weakness. "Let's hurry up and finish the maintenance, and then I'll take you home so you can rest."
The rest of the day passed like a dream. Each place she visited brought back memories that weren't her own and sensations that she swore she'd never experienced. With each place they passed, Marcas anxiety grew. By the end of the day, she was unable to concentrate on her task. With a pang of guilt, she left Marcas to handle the maintenance they were supposed to be doing together. As he checked a ventilation duct supplying air to the underground levels, he saw her nearly collapse from exhaustion.
"That's enough! I'm taking you home! Don't you dare say otherwise; you're supposed to be on your day off, and you've done your part. Besides, we've finished all the work for today." She tried to protest, but almost collapsed to the ground if he hadn't caught her. Seeing that she was unable to walk, he put her on his back, took advantage of the late hour and headed towards the exit. She clung to his neck and drifted off to sleep.
As they passed the turnstile, he scanned their two badges, signalling the end of their shift. He walked past the reception desk, catching the attention of the guard who had replaced the morning secretary. "So, what happened?" he asked, his tone slightly too intrusive. "We finished early. Since Angel wasn't feeling well, I brought her home." Searching for any hint of a lie in the man's story, the guard scrutinised the employee before pressing a button on his desk to open the door.
"As an exception, I'll let you leave early. Goodbye." He nodded to them and then sat back down in his chair. "Goodbye and thank you." The guard simply gestured for him to leave before opening a box of doughnuts. Marcas quickly crossed the company car park, searching for Angel's car. The darkness made it difficult to see what lay ahead. Just as he spotted it and began to approach, a man suddenly appeared in the headlights of a car. Only his silhouette was visible; the rest of his body was hidden in the darkness.
"Excuse me, but I'm in a hurry. Could you please move aside?" he asked politely, though panic was evident in his voice. "And why are you in such a hurry? Have you seen anything unusual?" he asked gravely. "No. It's just that my colleague isn't feeling well, so I decided to finish a little early and drive her home to rest." The stranger leaned his head over to look at the young woman. The car's headlights revealed her pale complexion and sleepy, fearful face.
"Indeed, she doesn't look well. Could you send her to me for a medical examination tomorrow?" Marcas tightened his grip on Angel, which seemed to relax her features slightly. "And you are?" he asked cautiously. "Please excuse my lack of manners. My name is Harley Sawyer. I am also one of the doctors responsible for the health of the people working in this factory. It would be a shame if she became ill and didn't see a doctor immediately." Though considered, Harley's words had a sinister undertone, and his instinct told him that this person was dangerous. However, Angel's safety came before his paranoia.
"Of course, Mr Harley." The doctor, having got what he wanted, disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the blinding glare of the headlights behind him. Still in shock, Marcas walked to Angel’s car, helped her into the back seat and got behind the wheel. After a short drive, they arrived at her house. He helped her out of the car and saw that she was awake. He helped her up the front steps and let her in.
"Well, it seems you don’t need my help anymore, so I’ll walk back to the company and get my car." Despite having to brave the cold night and the dark woods to get back to the parking lot, he had driven her back anyway. “Thanks for everything, Marcas.” A genuine smile spread across his face. "That's what friends are for, isn't it? Damn! I think I left my wallet at the company. It's a good thing I have to go back anyway.”
"What an idiot!" she exclaimed despairingly, but a slight smile betrayed her. “You’re in no position to make such a remark, so I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.” She watched her colleague leave, then went home, ate a frozen meal, and after taking a shower, collapsed onto her bed, oblivious to the menacing face of the eye that seemed to watch her in her nightmares.
Meanwhile:
Harley Sawyer was a formidable man, in charge of the Bigger Bodies Initiative and Playtime Co.'s special projects. He wielded as much authority as the founder, Elliot Ludwig, and wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty to achieve his goals. However, in reality, he was less powerful than the four executives who ran the factory. Technically speaking, though, he held more power within the factory than its founder. He was currently discussing a problem related to one of his experiments with a researcher from the research department.
"Are you saying that PJ Pug-a-Pillar has escaped from his cell and is wandering around the Innovation Wing, killing researchers?" he summarised angrily. Too afraid of triggering one of the Doctor's famous temper tantrums, the scientist simply nodded. After taking a moment to compose himself, he resumed questioning his subordinate. "And what measures have you taken?" he asked calmly. "We've sealed off the wing and evacuated the relevant personnel. We’re currently waiting for the containment staff with Catnap to apprehend him," he replied in a quiet voice.
"Keep up the good work. While I'm at it, clear my schedule for tomorrow, I have a meeting with an employee." Seeing an opportunity to divert his attention from the containment failure, he seized it. "He’s caught your attention?" he asked. "You could say that. There’s something fishy about this employee, and whatever she’s hiding, I’ll find out tomorrow."
He recalled his brief encounter with the employee in question. Although he couldn’t see her face clearly, he distinctly remembered the scar that ran across it. After this encounter, he reviewed the entire day and pored over his file. The more he learned about this infamous employee, the more curious he became; he was eager for the next day to arrive. He looked up at the dark sky, the stars hidden by the dark clouds of pollution emitted by the factory. He smiled as he thought about tomorrow, the discoveries he would make, the fear and pain she would feel. After all, the worst thing that could happen was to attract his attention, as none of his previous victims had ever been seen again.