Chapter Text
Doey is dead.
You stare at the massive broken body of what was once your friend, battered and hardened with piercing freeze, colorful hues now dull with the lifeless depression of loss. Blood stains your frayed clothing while you pant out heavy puffs of air from the frigidity of the room. Your grab pack slips off your shoulders, clattering to the floor, yet you pay it no mind. You move in a daze, dropping to your knees before the fallen experiment. One trembling hand reaches out, your fingers brushing against Doey’s head.
“Doey?” you whisper.
Nothing. He is cold. Cold, like everything else.
The waterworks start shortly after you comprehend he is really, truly gone. You shuffle closer, cradling the head in your lap while you cry, tears splattering messily against the dough. You’ve killed him. You crushed him. You took everything away from him, and then you took his life, even if you didn’t mean to. The guilt weighs heavy like the crusher shattering its way through Doey’s corpse. You don’t know what to do. Good lord, what will Poppy think? What about Kissy Missy? Do you even know where they are right now? Is the Prototype still here? You don’t think you can manage to make yourself stand up and fight, let alone run. You can’t leave Doey, you can’t, you-
Crack.
Your head whips up so hard your neck pops.
There are splinters rapidly growing across the top of Doey’s head. At first, you think it's because his body is crumbling, until you see the intricate web pushing upward like the shell of a newborn chick pecking its way through. It’s gradual at first, hesitant, until it picks up in ferocity, desperate, urging.
Something is trying to get out.
You are on your feet in an instant, fumbling backwards and nearly tripping over your grab pack in the process. In horror you watch Doey’s skull break apart, pieces falling and splintering into tiny bits. The mouth cringes and the lips yawn wide in a mock imitation of pain, the entire head unfurling grotesquely as hands- gigantic hands, the length of your entire body-grope their way out, clawing a head into open air, followed by narrow shoulders and a spindly torso, ending with long legs. There is a ghost of jeans and a plaid shirt flickering over its sunshine yellow image; the creature is so bright in appearance compared to the darkness of the prison, your eyes ache. It tumbles down the length of Doey’s side and curls up into a partial fetal position, sides heaving with gasping breaths.
You are silent, staring bug-eyed at the figure birthed from Doey’s body. It’s big, around the same size as Catnap, maybe taller. Though it holds no threatening aura, you know better than to trust its appearance. Looks are always deceiving in Playtime Co. You know that from the other monsters you’ve faced.
The creature lifts its head. Turning towards you, its eyes are pupiless, black. It opens its mouth, and the soft, shaky voice of a young boy wafts out, making your heart tremble.
“Mommy?” the giant says.
Your answer is a swift turn of the heel and a bolt, your legs pelting you down the nearest hallway while your terrified brain howls for you to run .
“Mommy? MOMMY! WAIT!” There are loud thooms reverberating through the area. The giant throws his hands into the hallway, long fingers grasping for you and just barely brushing against your back. You ignore the gut wrenching wails and continue running, panic making you forget about your grab pack, the only source of survival you have in this fucked up factory. “MOMMY! PLEASE, COME BACK!”
Steam hisses out of a few faulty vents while you run. You don’t stop. Blood roars in your ears and every fiber of your being is on fire. The screams of the boy behind you begin to sound like the screams of Doey before he…he…you shut your eyes and feel the tears fly down your face. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just run.
You don’t know how far you’ve gotten before your legs decide to give out. The sheer exhaustion of the past few hours finally gets to you, and you collapse onto your hands and knees. The familiar weight of your grab pack is gone; you have nothing to defend yourself now. Fuck. How did things become so disastrous so quickly?
It’s awful to think about. The Safe Haven is gone. Poppy and Kissy Missy are nowhere to be found. The Prototype is lurking and it is only a matter of time before another monster finds you, whether it be him, or something else.
I can’t take this anymore. You are scared, tired, and hurt. Dragging yourself back up again, you limp over to a small room and push the door open. It looks like some sort of security room, grimy and long abandoned…yet its safety, for now. You shut the door and practically crawl to the other side of the room, pressing yourself into a corner. Your arms tremble with how hard you hug your legs, and you bury your face into your knees, soft sobs echoing through the dark room, truly signifying how alone you are.
You are dozing off when you hear a massive thump outside the door, jolting you to your senses. Loud sniffles and the drag of nails against steel. “Hello? Mommy? Please…please come out…”
You flinch back and whimper, covering your ears. No more monsters, no more monsters, please, please…
The door creaks open. You see a single abyssal eye peering in at you, blue tears dripping down and splashing onto the floor. For a moment, you and the creature simply stare at each other. Then the eye moves, and the great hand shoves its way through.
You shriek, not fast enough to evade the fingers closing around your body and yanking you out of the room. They squeeze against your chest and constrict your rips painfully, shoving the air out of you in an agonized wheeze. You slam your own hands against the surprisingly soft skin which gives a little under your touch. Too much, it’s all too much, too tight, you can’t breathe-
“O-Oh! I’m sorry, I’m-I’m hurting you!” The monster’s grip lightens. You gulp up grateful lungfuls of oxygen and flop forward, shuddering. “Are you okay?”
You lift your head and look up into the boy’s eyes. He looks…very worried. With a soft tilt, he brings you closer, examining you, poking you lightly in the sides. “I feel no ouches or rough bumps…that’s good! I’m so happy you’re safe, Mommy. I was so worried! You looked so scared when I woke up, and I was afraid you-” He pauses when he hears your soft weeping. “Wait…why are you crying?! Did I hurt you? Mommy? Please talk to me!”
Your stomach lurches as he clasps you in both hands, shaking you a little. His frantic words fall on deaf ears; all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, hammering too fast, too much. It hurts. The fear hurts. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Too much, too much, too much.
“Matthew? Matthew! Something’s wrong with Mommy! They’re crying!”
You don’t register being passed to another pair of bigger, gentler hands. These hands cradle you like you are made of glass. There’s a soft press of a thumb wiping your tears away. “It’s okay,” a new voice whispers. “Please, breathe. You need to. I’ll help you through it.”
“I…I can't,” you gasp.
“You can. Please…breathe with me. In…and out. Listen. You can do it.”
You feel the tickle of breath tousle your hair. Despite your terror, deep down, you know this new monster is right. You need to calm down, or this panic attack is going to hurt you. So you fight your fear, and slowly follow his instructions. In…and out…
“That’s it. Good, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, Mom. Just keep breathing with me.” There’s a soft tap on your head. It registers as a gesture of comfort. For some reason, it somewhat reassures you.
Eventually, you manage to successfully steady yourself. One last exhale leaves you, and you finally feel like you can get ahold of your body again. You drag a hand over your face, feeling a collection of tears and sweat on your palm.
“Are they okay?” the voice of the yellow monster asks.
“I…I think so.” Whoever is holding you presses their thumb lightly against your chest. “Their heart isn’t going fast anymore. They’ve calmed down.” A sigh. “Mom? Can you open your eyes? Please?”
Stop calling me that, you want to demand. You are not their mom, you don’t know who they are. But regardless, you listen, lifting your head to tentatively look up at the orange giant holding you. This one is taller than the yellow one, older, with wavy hair and eyes with some discoloration under them, displaying a sign of tiredness. Yet, he smiles without his teeth, as radiantly bright as his companion. “…Hey,” he says. “Are you feeling better?”
“…Who…who are you?” you whisper.
A pause. The orange giant looks like he’s contemplating how to answer, when the yellow one speaks. “That’s a silly question! Don’t you recognize us? We’re your kids, Mommy!”
“Jack,” the orange giant hisses. “You’re going to confuse them.”
“But they have to know, Matthew! Why wouldn’t they? They’re our adult now, remember? One of the good ones!”
Jack…Matthew… Suddenly, it all makes sense. You remember reading their files, watching the VHS tapes, looking into the reports. Doey was created using three young boys. You recall him expressing different tones of speech and words, how his personality would almost flip like a switch. When you killed Doey, were his three souls finally freed? Are these two giants really Matthew Hallard and Jack Ayers?
Matthew notices your dawning expression. “You remember…don’t you?” He brings you closer. “We are Doey…or, we were. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but…”
“After Doey got squished, we came back! Like this! Pop!” Jack makes an exaggerated motion with his hands. It’s supposed to be comical, and you suppose in a better situation, you’d laugh. But right now, the realization is making you dizzy, and you don’t know how to react.
Matthew softens. “You’re overwhelmed.” He pats your head again. “It’s okay. I know this is all a lot to take in, and we haven’t made it easy for you. But we aren’t mad. Doey, he… we… made some bad decisions. We never wanted to hurt you, and-”
“What is going on here?”
Matthew goes silent. He draws you to his chest, shifting his hands to hide you beneath his fingers.
The third voice is rough, angry, and pained, all at the same time. You hear loud stomps as whoever joins Matthew and Jack growls, sounding more like a wolf than anything else you’ve heard in the factory. You peek between your captor’s digits and see a final bright red giant trudging into the hallway with a scowl on his face. He brushes his hair back and grumbles out his woes. “Stupid hallway, too tight for us to get through, too small, why are we so big-” He glowers at the other two boys. “Alright, why are we here? First thing we do after separating is chase some random feral? Sounds like a waste of time to me!”
“Don’t be mean, Kevin!” Jack exclaims indignantly. “You’re gonna scare Mommy! We just managed to calm them down!”
You feel Matthew tense. You remember Kevin; you read his file about his anger issues, his grief, the way his trauma blossoms into destructive violence. This…isn’t good. Not at all.
“Mommy? What are you talking about? Mom’s not-” His eyes trail to Matthew’s hands…and he spots you. He makes direct contact and you watch the way his face falls into multiple expressions: shock, dismay…and then, fury.
“You,” he snarls. “It’s you. You! You traitor!” He launches himself at you, fingers extending with wickedly sharp talons morphing from the tips.
Jack cries out in concern. Matthew shoots his hands up high to prevent you from being grabbed; you yelp from the vertigo, and you see Kevin grabbing the other’s arms, attempting to force you down. “Give them to me! Give them! They need to SUFFER FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE!”
“Kevin, stop!” Matthew cries. “We can’t hurt them! They did nothing wrong!”
“They KILLED our friends! They caused the explosion! Them and Poppy, that stupid doll! It’s ALL THEIR FAULT!”
“Kevin, please!” Jack throws himself around Kevin’s torso, desperately trying to pull him away. “Don’t hurt them! Don’t hurt Mommy!”
Kevin fights the other boy off, sending him careening backwards. There’s a horrible sound of dough slamming against metal, followed by a pained yell from Jack. He slumps, clutching his shoulder, tears already gathering in his eyes. Kevin is far too caught up in his anger to even notice.
“You lied to us!” he roars at you. His mouth is agape with needle sharp teeth, red as blood, ready to rip you to shred and erase you from existence. “You said you cared for us, loved us! Loved me! So gentle, so caring! All for you to end it in FLAMES!” He slashes his talons and nearly tears Matthew’s wrist off. You scream in terror, unable to keep your fear at bay.
Matthew grits his teeth and uses all of his strength to harshly shove Kevin aside. “ENOUGH!” he bellows. “Stop it, now! Killing won’t solve anything! THEIR DEATH WON’T BRING THE OTHERS BACK!”
Kevin pants, hunching over and baring his fangs, spikes growing along his arms and shoulder blades. Matthew doesn’t back down; both monsters are growling, ready to fight, all over you. You cling to the orange boy’s fingers, your entire body vibrating with fear.
Jack’s sniffles knock his brothers out of the instinctive stupor they are caught in. Both of them look at the youngest, falling silent. “Stop,” he begs. “No more fighting. Please…”
There’s a tense moment where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. But you release a sigh of relief when Kevin relaxes. His fists unclench and his spikes retreat back into his form.
Matthew hurries to Jack and helps him up. “Are you hurt?” he asks urgently.
Jack keeps his eyes on the floor. “M’ fine. Is…is Mommy okay?”
“They are not our mom,” Kevin mutters.
“Kevin, shut up.” Matthew shoots him a glare, then looks down at you. His eyes soften tremendously and his grip loosens. “M-Y/N? Are you alright?”
You give him no answer. You're too shaken to speak and simply stare at him, scared out of your mind. It’s the first time you’ve heard either of them say your name, and it confirms your suspicions: these three boys are indeed the remnants of Doey.
It doesn’t make you feel better. It makes you feel worse.
“You’re trembling.” Matthew makes a pained noise. “Oh, Y/N…I’m-I’m so sorry we’ve scared you. This…this never should have happened.”
“I’m not sorry,” Kevin says.
“I thought I told you to stay quiet.”
“You aren’t in charge of me!”
“Guys, please!” Jack steps between them. “Mommy’s scared, and it’s all our fault! If we keep acting like this, they-they-” He chokes on a whine. “They won’t want to be our mommy anymore!”
“Hey, hey, shhh,” Matthew soothes. “It’ll be okay, Jack. We’ll…we’ll fix this. We’ll help them not be afraid of us anymore. Once they see we don’t mean harm.”
Kevin begins to protest, but another growl from Matthew silences him. You cover your face and murmur a soft “I-I’m sorry…”
“…Don’t be sorry.” Matthew touches your cheek. As you flinch away, he whimpers. “Please. Don’t be afraid of us. We know you didn’t mean for the explosions to be so destructive. You trusted Poppy, and…and so did we. No one is going to fault you for that.”
Your heart is breaking. The flames, the smoke, the tiny bodies littering the debris…it makes you want to pound your fists against your skull. “I couldn’t save them. They were just kids. I…I just wanted to keep you all safe.”
“I know. I know, and…it’s a horrible feeling when you try to protect others from a terrible fate.” He sounds haunted, and you remember his file, how it described him as a protector of the other orphans in Playcare, a universal big brother who strived to be everyone’s friend. How many friends did he lose to the Doctor’s experiments? How much pain has he truly seen? “But there are others. Safe Haven isn’t the only refuge for those who still remain. We can still rescue them. We can get them out of here, and-and atone for the mistakes we’ve made.”
Kevin snorts. Matthew ignores him. “We want to protect you,” he says. “You’ve been so good to us since the moment we’ve met. Let’s start over. No Safe Haven. No Doey. Just you, Matthew, Kevin, and Jack.”
He tilts your chin and gently forces you to look at him. He offers a lopsided smile. Jack slinks closer and grins with hope. Kevin turns his back and remains silent.
So many emotions are running through you. You loved Doey. You truly started to see him as a friend, as…as a sort of son. This last part causes you to internally cringe, because what business do you have with taking care of a child, let alone three? With your history entangled with Playtime Co’s, there seems to be no hope of you ever carrying the courage to adopt a kid, even though you desperately want to.
“Trust us?” Matthew asks.
You can’t say no to him. You love him, and his brothers. Damn it, you really are thinking like a parent now. “…Okay.”
Jack squeals and claps joyfully. “Yay! Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou, Mommy! I’m so happy you’re gonna stay with us! I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you!”
“I know plenty of things I’d do to make them get lost,” Kevin grumbles.
“Matthew, Matthew, can I hold them? Pleeeease? I’ll be super gentle, kind, and careful, and I’ll love them so, so much and keep them safe!” Jack makes grabby hands for you. The action is fast and startling. You gasp in fear.
“L-Let’s let them rest for a moment, okay bud? They’re really tired from all that running and fear. I think they need to take a nice, long nap.” Matthew regards you, biting his lower lip. “I…I know where I can keep them while they recover.”
There’s a strange look in his eyes that immediately has you on edge. “M-Matthew? What…what are you thinking of?”
He winces. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It’s…it’s not as bad as you think. It’ll be warm, comfy, and safe. Safe from those who might want to hurt you right now.” He glances at Kevin. “Don’t…don’t be afraid, okay? I’d never hurt you.”
“I don’t understand.” You pick up a struggle, alarm bells beginning to ring in your head. “Matthew, I don’t-please, what are you planning on doing with me?!”
Matthew winces. “Please…please don’t look at me like that. I hate when people think we’re-we’re just… a monster who wants to hurt them. You’re our mom. Our mission. And we’re going to get you out of here…whatever it takes.”
You watch in newfound horror as the boy draws you towards his face. Your struggles turn into futile thrashes when opens his mouth wide. There’s no sharp teeth, not like Kevin’s, but the sight isn’t any more comforting when you are carefully pushed past hardened dough and onto a plush tongue. There’s no saliva here, because you realize he can’t have saliva, not like the other monsters, not like you. You can’t really believe this is happening until you watch his jaws click closed and you are sealed in darkness.
You scream. “No! No, wait! Matthew, please! Don’t-don’t do this, I don’t-” Everything tilts; the boy is moving his head up and allowing you to slide towards the narrow tunnel of his throat. Another wail wrenches from you, and you dig your nails into his tongue, fingers sinking into the dough, but it offers no aid as the substance easily stiffens and doesn’t allow you any hold. It’s a cruel, terrible thing, to be told you are a creature’s mother, only for that very creature to devour you, trapping you in a twisted fate you’ve fought for so, so long. And there’s no fighting left within you. As a resounding glk echoes in your ears and you are sucked down the monster’s throat, you give up. You go still and let yourself be pushed down, down, down, into the darkness you cannot escape.
When you slip into a tight, enclosed space-the stomach-the walls close in to hold you, pulsing with a sense of breath. The dough making up this little pocket is a pale citrine which gives off a faint glow. When you try to stand, the floor gives out, causing you to fall forward onto your underside. There’s a press from where you can no longer reach; Matthew’s feeling you out, and when he locates your form, he begins tenderly rubbing you. It makes you stiffen up and shy away from the touch.
“It’s okay.” Matthew’s voice rumbles. “You’re safe. It’s only for a little while. Just until I can convince Kevin to leave you alone. Then I’ll let you out, alright? I’m just…I just want to protect you.”
Exhaustion weighs on your weary bones. You try to push yourself up, but you only sag back down, laying against the cradling dough. Some of it begins to cover you, moving over your body like a blanket. It’s warm, and soft, and it only makes you want to pass out even more than you already do.
“Please…” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I…I’m so, so sorry…Don’t…don’t kill me…”
“I won’t. I promise I won’t. You’re safe. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Just-just rest. When you wake up…all of this fear will be nothing more than a bad dream.”
It’s too much to handle. So you listen. For the first time in four days, you finally, finally, fall into a deep, deep sleep.