The puppet had been gone for about three minutes, the huddled mass of me, Toy Chica and her older sister, and the three ponies sitting in the relative silence, each tiny sound from the halls being analyzed and listened to intently by those who were able to tell us the most useful information and leave out the rest.
We had–through sheer force of will–convinced Chica to stay put rather than rushing headlong into what would likely be a trap or end up getting one or more of us captured. Earned me a jab to the side, but I’d rather deal with a bit more pain than losing one of our own.
Fluttershy had gone over to Chica to try and forge some sort of peace, which earned her a derisive snort from the animatronic who then closed her eyes and did the best she could to render herself immune to the meek yellow pegasus’ Stare. Pinkie was oddly quiet, mostly from Rarity’s wishes as well as the attention she was getting from Toy Chica.
That left me to think. Springtrap was the scariest thing I knew existed in this realm; even my short exposure to some trailers of the Sister Location game had rendered Baby tame in comparison. It’s not saying that I should consider her any less lethal and dangerous as Springtrap–her methods were far more methodical and playful.
And if the way he had basically started this game was any indication as to his unpredictability, we were in a lot of trouble. I remember watching my friend’s video of a spring lock suit in the game… the thought of being in one was altogether unpleasant and terrifying.
The knowledge that it would be either Chica or Springtrap putting me in one eventually was one that I tried to banish from my thoughts as soon as it entered my mind.
When the door creaked open, none of us knew what to expect. I was prepared to have my existence come to a rather painful conclusion. I now was wondering what my body wound undergo as I was stuffed inside one of the suits, how it would push at my body and perforate limbs, organs, my very soul potentially.
Hell, if it means I could be a force for good to rally against Springtrap, I’d accept that death with as little problem as one could.
The puppet came back in, no light in his wake as he slowly came out of his box.
His face looked as if he’d been put through a blender; scratches and marks from where something had worked at it, almost down to his exoskeleton.
“They… are hungry. They are all hungry. If we are to survive, we will need to find another way around.”
“NOW can we try my way, Whimper?”
I shook my head in the dark, admitting that I was at a loss for what to do next and that the ones that knew the place better were likely the best choice for the direction forward.
Yes, Chica… let’s go with your plan.
“Good. Sis, Fluffball, you two, follow me. Access door shouldn’t be that hard to find, and right now I really feel like punching something.”
I quickly surmised that had the desire to stuff me in a suit not been overwhelming, the large chicken would have taken great pleasure in using my face as a punching bag.
There was a small hiss as the doorway opened into the access hallway. It was, similar to the everywhere else in the pizzeria, dark with not so much as a trace of light. Chica herself had to feel around the inside of the walls to make sure it was where she remembered it to be.
“Well, this is the right room. Everybody follow me, and stay close and quiet. Mari, you need to stay behind and watch for the others. I’ll come back for you when we’re safe.”
“That means you won’t be back at all, Chica. There is no safe place here anymore, not now.”
“Shut up you damn pessimist.”
”I am merely being accurate about out current situation.”
Chica didn’t respond to Mari, only continuing ahead. Toy Chica was the next to go, and the ponies and I brought up the rear.
We walked for what seemed like five minutes in the black-as-death corridor, claustrophobia playing a tune on me like an awkward friend who’d overstayed their welcome.
A door greeted us at the other end, as well as something odd; light.
Uhh, Chica, is that…?
“Probably a trap? Maybe. Could also be a way out to getting the ponies to safety. Let’s see what’s behind Door Number 1!”
Another mechanical whine, and our world became a blinding flash as we had adapted to the lack of light.
The where we ended up made me confused for a second before I realized the who.
The accent in which the ballerina spoke confirmed my thoughts.
“Who are you?”
Not sure if this is bad to worse. I’m still deciding.
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