Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, he goes down the elevator just to die.

Well, everyone does- just not quite in the way he does it - It was a one way trip. Get as far as possible before getting killed, and then respawn in the lobby to do it all again.

Some deaths were much more painful than others, fully depending on the given twisted. Quick ones- Twisted Goob, who simply crushes a Toons head once in his hands, Twisted Rodger, getting disintegrated instantly after only a couple moments of fear, Twisted RazzleAndDazzle, ribbons strong enough to snap a neck -and slow ones -Most commons, uncommons, having to chew or claw at their victims, not often finding any vital points until after gouging everywhere else, Twisted Pebble, who seemed to view everything as a game, gnawing at his prey like a chew bone, Twisted Sprout, tendrils wrapping around and squeezing whatever they’ve caught like a boa constrictor. They all hurt to some degree, but some were more welcomed.

And upon a respawn, the Toon is remade to how they’re supposed to be, how they look on stage. So, sometimes, shamefully, Glisten descends the elevator on the guise of a solo run, finds a relatively painless Twisted, and lets himself be killed.

It doesn’t happen often. Only when he just can’t seem to look right, on the days he stares into the mirror with wide eyes, searching frantically for an imperfection he can’t find. When the light won’t reflect off of his face right, when his clothes seem to be suffocating, when he finds himself pulling his bow tight enough to dig into his body with hopes that the impressively tied accessory will take attention off of his shaking hands- and it usually works.

After all, he doesn’t get to be messy. He’s nothing if not perfect, the thought of anyone else seeing him the way he sees himself is enough to make his heart tighten horribly.

Straightening up his posture as Dandy’s Shop rises from the elevator, he turns his back to the selection, ignoring the familiar spiel trying to entice him. He didn’t bother to pick up tapes, only finishing the first floor upon finding out that none of the Twisteds would give him a relatively painless death. He could feel Dandy’s glare as the shop lowered again, TV in the corner flicking off as the door opened once again, revealing The Projector Room. With a sigh, Glisten steps out, letting himself slouch slightly now that no one was watching him, starting to peak around each corner.

He allowed himself to frown upon seeing a twisted version of Cosmo roaming down one of the hallways, right hand twitching and dripping with ichor. With an annoyed huff, he slipped back, turning to look for the other one, or at least a research capsule to indicate who it might be. Walking around a tape left on the ground, then stepping back and kicking it as hard as he could, he narrowed his eyes, pulling his bow loose and throwing it to the ground as well, before continuing his search.

Up the stairs, by one of the beanbags, he grabbed a capsule off the ground, and dropped it again upon seeing the small note of “Twisted Finn Research”. After a few minutes, he finished the last machine, shuddering in disgust at the feeling of ichor slowing him down for a few seconds. Walking past his discarded ribbon, he grabbed it half heartedly, and sat down on the elevator floor once the door shut again. None of the options seemed good, but ‘Lost And Found’ was chosen in the end, a medkit dropping into his lap. His luck always seemed to be on the runs he didn’t care about.

The next few floors were the same. Twisteds that would give agonizing deaths, and another medkit lying right outside the elevator. By floor six, Dandy was openly scowling, tapping a finger against an airhorn on a small cushion in front of him, then scoffing, muttering under his breath.

"You know you can just kill yourself without wasting my time too, right?"

Glisten ignored him, and wrapped a bandage around his arm, a Twisted Scraps having bitten a chuck of flesh off with her tail. He listened for footsteps, and upon not hearing any, left out a small breath of relief. The elevator opened, and he made no motion to stand up from where he was, knees pulled up to his chest. After a few seconds, he was shoved out, door slamming shut, still not bothering to stand.

And there he sat, for what was probably ten minutes. Sometimes, the silence of the lower floors could be nice, even if leaving him alone with his thoughts wasn't always the best idea. Eventually, he stood back up, looking around the warehouse. Walking past an abandoned car, he checked a capsule, finally breathing out a sigh of relief at seeing “Twisted Rodger Research” on it, starting to search for the capsule. There’s a distant sound, but it’s ignored. Connie seems to be the other one, as a cold chill goes down his spine as he passes a machine, and then, he finally finds the unmarked capsule.

Brushing any dust off of him, he wrings out his hands, retying his bow carefully. Even if the only thing that would see him is a Twisted, he was going to look at least somewhat presentable.

He reached down, resting a hand against the glass, jerking back when it bursts open. It’s still a bit startling, even when expected. Again, there’s another noise in the background, but his attention stays on the detective rising from the ground in front of him. He shuts his eyes, wincing as the first red beam hits his chest. The sound of a heart breaking is faint, but the pain is more dull than anything. The second one doesn’t even hurt at all, only making him dizzy, lightheaded.

Glisten can hear the third beam charging up, and then the unmistakable sound of talking. He bristles up, but he doesn’t move. This can be played off as an accident. If another group found him, he can just tell them he didn’t mean to touch the capsule, once they’re remade in the lobby as well. By then, he should be feeling better anyways.

But right before he’s finally killed, a pair of clawed hands lock onto his shoulders, yanking him back and away from the gentle promise of death. He lets out a girly yelp, not expecting the sudden contact, being pulled into a hug with wiry arms wrapping around him.

“Are you okay? That was close!”

Goob pushes his cheek against Glisten, who begrudgingly opens his eyes to see the other Toons, who crowd around him to check up on him, apparently.

“I was fine.”

He felt nauseous, being scrutinized while out of shape from everything. His makeup was messy, glass smudged and ichor staining his bow from where it’d been tossed aside. Tisha handed him a cloth to clean himself up once Goob let go, and he couldn’t tell if it was from pity about how bad he must look, or because he’d once mentioned how much he dislikes whenever his face is unclean. Cosmo handed him a cupcake, and then most of them flitted off towards machines.

Glisten sighed, and moved towards the valve that he presumed Connie was haunting.

Chapter Text

Pain. The pain of being remade, the pain of getting broken again and again until the ichor can finally make the Toon properly, and the pain of having to feel death. Sometimes, an unlucky one stays conscious throughout the full respawning process, having to feel that cold, viscous liquid rework an entire body. Most would wake up sobbing in the lobby, as the last of the ichor drips away. It truly was agony.

Glisten simply opens his eyes, before blinking at the bright lights. The aching was dull, familiar, from how many times he’d gone on ‘solo runs’, and somewhat welcome. Beauty was pain, he knew that, so there was a sort of thrill in the knowledge he should look perfect, from just how much pain the remaking process was for him.

Standing up, he puffed out his bow, straightening up. There weren't many Toons in the lobby at the moment, which is a little annoying since he should be in the best possible shape to be seen, but it was unseemly to get anything more than frustrated. Walking back to his room, he peered into the mirror. It was important to remind himself how perfect he could look.

His heart sank.

He didn’t look perfect. There was something wrong with how he looked, and he had to find out what. What was wrong with him? There was something wrong! Not his makeup, it was perfect, there wasn’t any smudges on his glass, it was perfect, his clothes didn’t have any wrinkles or stains, it was perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, but not perfect. There wasn’t a single flaw he could place, so it must be him as a whole. If he could see something was off, then everyone else could as well. They could point it out. They could criticize it. They could talk about him behind his back, they could realize just how imperfect he could be, and they could leave him behind.

Readjusting his bow once again, he waited until his lip stopped quivering -he liked to pride himself on never crying -and opened the door to his room, almost bumping straight into another Toon.

Rodger took a step back, lowering his hand away from the door, and brushed out his suit.

“Glisten.”

“Rodger?”

He closed the door behind him after joining him in the hallway, holding his hands behind his back to hide how much they were shaking. Rodger tended to scrutinize whoever he was speaking to, razor sharp eye looking them over as if appraising, even if he didn’t always realize he was doing it, and Glisten had to swallow the lump in his throat at the thought of the detective noticing something was off about his appearance. Maybe he’d find the thing Glisten couldn’t.

“If I may, can we have a word? I’ve found myself a bit…concerned about you.”

His hands shook more, shoulders trembling slightly.

“There’s no reason to, I’m alright. I’m always alright, you should know this!”

Turning on his heel, Glisten began walking back towards the lobby, turning his head up. Rodger followed him with a sigh.

“And you should know that I’m here if you need anything. I’d like to think I’m a rather good listener, and we’ve talked in the past about these sorts of things, so-”

“I’m fine! Just leave me alone, please, I’ve got to go on a run. It’s quite important.”

Speeding up somewhat, Glisten made a sharp turn, frowning ever so slightly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Glisten. Your solo expeditions tend to end rather quickly, but you insist on continuing them, which is part of the reason why I’m a tad-”

As soon as the white outline of someone appeared through the wall, a mirror opened up behind Glisten, teleporting him to the person in an instant. It wasn’t often he used his ability inside, but it could be a good way to escape less-than-pleasant conversations, even if the dizziness isn’t great. He only really uses it whenever Finn tries to talk to him.

Stumbling back, before quickly standing up properly again, he glanced over to see who he’d teleported to. A distracted Goob, shaking his head in apparent discomfort with his eyes squeezed shut. He must have just respawned.

Once noticing Glisten, he wrapped him up in a hug, pulling him close and sniffling.

“I messed up! The team must be so upset that their distractor is gone, and now they’ll get caught faster! I don't want them to get killed, it hurts so bad! I already couldn’t help you when Twisted Connie got you, what if they don’t think I’m good at my job anymore?”

Somewhat awkwardly, Glisten got an arm free and patted Goob’s head.

“No, I’m sure they don’t. Everyone makes mistakes, after all! Except for me, that is.”

Goob looked up at him, letting out a melancholy sigh and leaning into Glisten's hand.

“You accidentally touched the machine Connie was haunting, though, wasn’t that a mistake?”

“It wasn’t, I…”

He paused, before starting to feel a bit defensive.

“Well, so what if I make a mistake? Is that the end of the world? Why do you care so much, it isn’t your problem!”

Blinking in surprise, Goob hesitated as Glisten frowned and pulled away from the hug.

“I didn’t say that…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything…”

“I don’t feel bad! I never feel bad! I’m perfect, after all. Look, it…it doesn’t matter. Sorry for snapping at you. You…saved me before, from Twisted Rodger, so that shows you’re doing what you’re supposed to. Don’t feel guilty for dying.”

Stepping back, Glisten crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a small breath. Goob shifted back and forth in place, before piping up again, smiling.

“Okay, thank you! By the way, some of the other Toons were also talking about going on a run as well, and since I’m feeling better, I wanna join them! To prove I can be a good distractor! Would you wanna come with me? You’re really good at extracting, so I bet we could use your help!”

Making sure there weren’t any wrinkles in his outfit after the hug, his eyes wandered to one of the elevators, thinking it over.

He’d rather die by himself, and he already knew what he had to do to make sure he’d look actually perfect upon being remade, but…someone who was perfect wouldn’t turn down a friend's offer, would they? He should know, considering he was perfect. It would be odd to say no, then go on a run alone, and he’d rather not have anyone else suspicious…plus, he might need help getting to the more dangerous floors, for what he has in mind…so…

“Of course I will, Goob. You’ll need me if you all hope to get far, after all!”

“Great! I’ll go find others! Stay here!”

Goob grinned, and then turned to race down the hall, hands dragging on the ground behind him. Glisten watched him leave, before sitting down on one of the benches, staring at the ground.

Chapter Text

It should have been obvious. If he’s barely being hurt, then there isn’t very much to replace, is there? He has to do something…drastic. Find a twisted that forced the ichor to remake him entirely , which would leave no room for error. After all, everyone knows the saying.

Beauty is pain. 

He knows that more than anyone, spending hours everyday making sure he can look spotless. Mulling over his reflection as if it’d kill him to step out looking anything less than perfect, going through carefully crafted routines, reapplying makeup over and over again, once even carving down some of his frame when it got chipped, to make it seem like part of the design before he’d found out that things like that were fixed upon dying. 

It was easy to get envious of the others. It wasn’t as easy realizing that perfect people don’t get envious, or jealous, or anything of that sort. So, he couldn’t quite say he was jealous of how easy-going most of the others seemed; He couldn’t say there were days he longed to join the craft siblings in their roughhousing, or Cosmo and Boxten in baking lessons, or honestly, just be able to ignore or snap at someone like Shrimpo could, if he had a bad day. If he theoretically had a bad day. 

Distantly, Glisten knew they probably wouldn’t judge him for having flaws. Everyone has flaws -well, almost everyone- and it wouldn’t be fair to think less of him just for being a bit under the weather from time to time, to know how much stress he feels if a pair of eyes seem to focus on an assumed imperfection. Many of the other Toons have a myriad of flaws, and no one criticizes, or abandons them for that. Poppy and Boxten are still getting used to runs. Brightney has problems with her stealth. Toodles has a bad habit of picking up important things and not telling anyone. Connie is rather slow, and is always pulling pranks with Gigi. 

Flaws, yes, but nothing worth ruining friendships over. 

But…perfection was so much of who he is. He’d be a whole different person if he abandoned that. And at this point, who would he really be? It’s an unpleasant thought, any idea of someone not seeing him in the best possible light. 

Sometimes, he wished he was just a different Toon. Other times, he wished he was nothing at all. 

“Hey there, I’m back! Hope I didn’t take too long!”

Glisten was jerked out of his thoughts by Goob plopping down next to him on the bench, swinging his feet back and forth, even though they dragged against the ground. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind waiting. Where are the others? Who else is coming with us?”

He stared down the hallway, before realizing he was slouching and quickly fixing his posture. Goob didn’t seem to notice, his eyes wandering around aimlessly. 

“They’ll trickle in, a few of ‘em are just finishing things up! We’ve got Poppy, me, you, Scraps, Rodger, Shelly, and Connie! Isn’t that great?”

Glisten fidgeted slightly, not liking the possibility of being questioned by Rodger again…but he was better than Shrimpo or Finn. 

“Alright. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Of course! An expedition with friends might be just what you need to feel better!”

Smiling widely, he nodded, whereas Glisten's smile strained.

“Feel better? What do you mean?”

Goob hummed, looking back at him, tapping a claw against the bench.

“You know, uhm…sorry if I’ve misinterpreted it, but you’ve just seemed…down, lately. Not coming out of your room as much, going on solo runs more often then group ones, all that Something just seems…ah, I dunno. I just want you to feel better, if you are feeling less-than-stellar.”

He blinked expectantly, before readjusting himself awkwardly upon not getting a response; Glisten just stared at the carpet, and Goob couldn’t really tell if he was lost in thought or was waiting for Goob to continue. After a few seconds, he did the latter, looking away from Glisten and towards the GardenView sign.

“I mean…it’s okay to feel a bit sad. Scraps always cheers me up, whenever I start having a dreary day, and maybe all you need is a couple really good hugs! I’m always here if you want one. And this run might get you rejuvenated again, right?”

“Right.”

Standing up, Glisten stretched his arms a bit, Goob hopping up as well.

“I think I’d rather stand while we wait.”

“Got it!” 

Chapter Text

“Hey, Goob, it says gullible on the ceiling!”

“Really? Where? I don’t see anything…”

Connie snickered as Goob peered up, Scraps letting out a disappointed sigh. Glisten stood close to the door, trying to face away from the others in case whatever was wrong with him was on his face, with Rodger next to him. He hadn’t spoken yet, just looking ahead. Poppy and Shelly sat in the corner, the fossil rattling on about some dinosaur called Skorpiovenator, seemingly ecstatic someone was listening to her facts. 

After a few seconds, the door rumbled open, and everyone went their separate ways, Goob shouting for the twisteds. Glisten took a small breath, steadying himself and walking out to find machines. He was the best at extracting in the team- Of course he was, he was the best at everything -so it was his job to get them done quickly. Especially with Goob distracting on the same team as Scraps, she always gets worried if things take too long. 

Finding the first machine, he wiped off his hands, and began to twist the valve. Ichor dripped down into the glass tank quickly, filling up even faster upon him successfully hitting a skillcheck, the words “Great Job!” popping up for a moment, and then the ding of the machine finishing. One down, three to go.

Or, well, two to go, as another noise of completion rings out. Halfway there.

He walks a bit faster, glancing around each corner prior to turning, seeing another unfinished one and jogging over, before pausing upon seeing the wheel already being turned, seemingly by itself. He didn’t get time to question it before Connie re-appeared with a puff of smoke, jumping at him with her arms stretched out.

“Boo!”

Thankfully, her own smoke didn’t clear fast enough for her to see Glisten jolt in place, being able to stifle a small yelp of surprise and feign stoicism. 

“Nice try, Connie, but you’ll have to try harder than that to startle me.”

“Awh, come on…”

She frowned a little, before shrugging to herself. He stepped past her, motioning to the machine.

“I can finish this up, if you’d like to head back to the elevator.”

“Sick, okay! Thanks!”

He watched her float off, before turning his attention back to his job. Half a minute later, the elevator door opened again, a convenient white arrow pointing him in the right direction. Not that he needed it, running carefully back to where he started. Poppy yelled out that everyone was at the elevator upon seeing him, and Goob was safely in as well, before the countdown even went below fifteen seconds. 

“Hello everyone, come look at my stock! I’ve got the finest goods you’d ever be able to buy, for the low, low price of just a few of those tapes you’ve got.”

Dandy leaned over his shop counter, smiling widely and gesturing at the three items sitting in front of him. A jumper cable, chocolate bar, and bandage that no one could afford. They all glared at him, turning away. 

“Hey, guys, why don’t we ignore him this time around? It’s his fault we’re down here.”

Scraps whispered to the others, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Are you finally gonna buy something, Glisten? I see you actually picked some tapes up this time! Come on, I bet you could afford something .”

Dandy pushed the cushions closer to the edge of the counter, motioning at the chocolate bar. Glisten gritted his teeth as a few of the other Toons glanced at him.

“I’m not sure that’s a very good idea, Scraps. From my research, it might even be dangerous. I don’t think we should risk it.”

Shaking his head, Rodger hummed, glancing back at Dandy. Glisten planted his hands on his hips dramatically, tilting his head up.

“We should ignore him. It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen, seriously?”

“So no items? That’s okay! I’ll be back!”

The shop descended into the floor once again, and Shelly shifted slightly, staring at the ground.

“Let’s just base it off of what he sells, I don’t think it’d be nice to purposefully ignore him. Being ignored isn’t a very good feeling…”

Door opening once again, they looked at each other, before stepping out. 

Glisten wanted to ignore him. He never liked the quips Dandy made to him, and calling him out in front of everyone was just rude . Now people might wonder why he didn’t buy things on his solo runs, or why he didn’t bother to even pick up tapes. Hell, Rodger was probably analyzing it right as he thinks. 

Moving into a room with a machine, he closed his eyes, putting his hands on the red valve. 

It was nice, being so efficient with machines. Speed rivaling even Vee, it gave him even more reasons to boast, and it was satisfying to hear the others agree, or motion for him to finish a machine they’re on, if they weren’t as fast. It made him feel useful. Being asked to join a group specifically because he was so skilled was an amazing feeling, and sometimes he would turn offers down initially, just to hear them ask again, a little more pleadingly. He was desired, he was one of the first picks, he was important to their survival. Of course, he’d sigh and say something along the lines of “Well, since you asked so nicely” , or “Am I really that important? Oh, of course I am! I’ll tag along.” , then help out as best he can, to prove that asking that second, or sometimes even third time, was worth it. That keeping him around was worth it. 

But, even talent wouldn’t save him from judgement, if they were to find out how insecure he could be. If they noticed what was wrong with him, before he could find a twisted to reset him properly. 

The floors came and went rather quickly, the only mishaps being a lost heart from Poppy and Goob, after she accidentally got in his way while trying to get some research on twisted Flutter. Rodger taught her how to do it safely, after Scraps finished lecturing her. 

“You don’t need my help? Fine!”

Most of the Toons fidgeted uncomfortably as Dandy lowered for the third time, and the door opened to the sixth floor. For a moment, an old diner area was in view, before there was a buzz, and the lights shut down entirely. Connie seemed unbothered, illuminating much more than the others, and continuing without hesitation. Poppy followed behind her, while everyone else went in separate directions. Except for Rodger, who moved to walk next to Glisten.

“I’m glad you decided to accompany us on this run, Glisten. Your help is appreciated.”

“Of course it is! You act as if I’m not ready to help my friends when given the chance. No perfect person would turn down someone in need.”

Picking up a small orange candy, he unwrapped and popped it in his mouth upon seeing the faint red light of an available machine. 

“And I assume a perfect person would also help themselves, if they realized they needed it too, correct?”

“A perfect person wouldn’t ever need help. That’d make them imperfect . That’s why I’m quite alright, all the time!”

Rodger gave a small hum, eye moving to watch the ichor flow down.

“I’d like to disagree. Someone who is perfect would allow themselves to process their emotions, even if it seems…unreasonable, at times. But maybe it’s all subjective. A perfect person is still a person , after all, not an object. Objects don’t have feelings. People do.”

The only noises were the moving of gears and the wheel, for a couple of seconds. Glisten opened his mouth to respond, but a loud crunch rang out first, signalling that someone was dead, followed shortly by a smaller breaking sound. Rodger hesitated, before quickly walking out of sight to find his own machine, in order to finish the floor faster. 

“Poppy ran in RazzleAndDazzle’s circle, I forgot to warn her in time! Oh, I feel so bad.”

Shelly frowned, sitting down with her legs pulled up once back in the elevator, while Scraps put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry. There was a blackout anyways, you probably just didn’t see the ribbons until it was too late. You got hurt as well, you should just focus on yourself until we find something to heal you. Connie and I were the ones who saw them first, I should’ve tried to remind Poppy, I just…you know how much it hurts me to see the twins like that.”

Connie jabbed her shoulder teasingly, rolling over in the air and putting her hands behind her head.

“We all can tell, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t worn anything other than that blue dress since Dazzle called it cute! Or that they always save their bandages for you! Romantic, am I right?”

Scraps looked away, the tips of her ears flushing a deeper pink.

“That’s not what we’re talking about!”

Shelly smiled a little, mind seemingly gotten off the guilt, before her eyes widened slightly upon the sound of soft music, and two pairs of footsteps from behind the door. The elevator came to a slow stop. Rodger blinked in surprise, before writing something down in his notepad. 

Scraps looked over at Goob, who seemed a bit scared, before taking a breath and seeming to steel himself. 

Glisten did the same thing, straightening up and steadying himself once again, reminding himself that this had to be done. He had to be completely torn apart. Only then, could he be remade perfectly. Doubting himself was the worst thing he could ever have to deal with.

The elevator door slid up.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before there was a crunch, then a scream. Glisten hid behind a shelf, trying to remind himself what he has to do, no matter how much it may hurt. He’s more than a little unnerved upon peaking out and seeing a mess of ichor and what must have used to be Goob splattered across the floor of the garage. Large, rainbow talons lift up and off of the viscera, before going back down to run forward again upon processing Scraps’s shout of dismay at the scene. From a different direction, there are footsteps, sounding as if the twisted was walking on leaves, though it was a little hard to tell over the lullaby that played whenever he would approach.  

A perfect person wouldn’t let their teammate get killed, while they just hide like a coward.

Glisten tightens his bow, before running out and into view, trying to pull attention off of Scraps. It was better he get killed than her. She shot her tail out, wrapping it around his arm and pulling herself forward, but being intercepted halfway over by those talons slamming down again, crushing her instantly. Her tail twitches once, twice, then slides off of his arm. He takes a step back. 

Okay, much more than a little unnerved. Very unnerved. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be accustomed to death at this point, with how much you waste my time with your little runs, hm?”

Dandy tilts his head slightly, raising an eyebrow, and steps towards him in order to keep the distance the same. 

“Or are you only fine with it if it’s your own death? I guess that’s fair, considering you don’t have to see the aftermath. It’s normally rather…gorey. Mister Perfect, strewn across the floor! How funny is that?”

In the distance, there’s the sound of someone losing a heart, and then the ding of a finished machine. Dandy’s eyes shift towards the noise. His smile widens. 

Standing in the face of death, he suddenly doesn’t want to die.

“I think I’ll leave you for last. You’re just not worth killing, I’d rather focus on the other Toons first. Besides, I think you’d want to be killed, don’t you?”

Stumbling back, Glisten watches as Dandy sprints off in the direction of the sound, momentarily frozen, before he also runs. In the opposite direction, though. He has to finish as many machines as he can, to help his teammates survive. Then let something get him in panic mode. 

A perfect person wouldn’t make it harder for their group, just so that they can get the pain of being smeared across the concrete floor over with. 

Ducking into a room, he all but scrambles over to the valve, twisting it as fast as he’s able to. His hands shake slightly, and he stares at the wheel in order to avoid seeing his reflection in the glass. Normally, he’d use the opportunity to check himself over, make sure he was looking top-notch, but for one reason or another, he can’t bring himself to look. 

A perfect person wouldn’t mull over their appearance at a time like this. 

That must be why getting a glance of himself by accident while completing a skill check makes his stomach churn. 

Finishing the extraction, at roughly the same time as another person, he bolts as soon as Dandy’s footsteps seem to get louder, looking around and speed walking towards another machine once it comes into view. Second to last, if he was counting right. He wasn’t entirely sure, considering the sounds of music, footsteps, and crunching all overlapping, but that was his guess. 

In his head, he went over who was still alive. Shelly, Connie, Rodger, and himself. Shelly was on one, and he’d heard someone else lose a heart. But it seems that Dandy killed someone no matter how many hearts that person had, so someone had gotten hit by Sprout. Or was there a third twisted?  He hadn’t picked up any research capsules in the heat of it all. His head was pounding.

There’s a beep as he misses a skill check from not paying attention, and he curses at himself, wiping off his hands again and trying again. There weren’t any footsteps close by, so it was safe to assume he could continue. About a quarter full, and hopefully, someone else was on a machine as well. Everyone left had good extraction speeds, so as long as they were careful, this could be done soon. Shifting uncomfortably in place, he almost doesn’t want to get himself killed by a twisted that would hurt. Even if the pain was…necessary, it certainly wasn’t pleasant. 

Maybe he should talk to Rodger about it.

He didn’t seem to mind if Glisten acted less than cordial. Goob still invited him on the run, even after he’d snapped at him. Connie tried to scare him like she did the others, despite something unplaceable about him being wrong. The looks the Toons exchanged after Dandy mentioned him not ever buying things weren’t really those of judgement, more of concern. 

Rodger had been concerned for him. Goob had been concerned for him. 

A perfect person wouldn’t…

What would a perfect person do?

The machine’s light turned green, and he stepped back, looking around before grabbing an airhorn off the ground. He unties his bow, retying it with a simple knot around his waist so it doesn’t puff out behind him. Less pretty, but more practical. 

There is a final ding, and the elevator door opens, countdown beginning. Glisten begins to run. 

He can hear a couple of the others running as well, and a white outline lights up in his vision. Assumably, they’re getting chased, from how loud Dandy’s music get’s when he comes within range. Bracing himself, a mirror appears behind him, plopping him right behind the Toon. Shelly. 

The airhorn goes off with a loud blare, and he shudders upon the familiar feeling of a pair of eyes on him. Everything spins, his ears ringing from the music, the countdown, the airhorn, and some of the other Toons yelling for him to get to the elevator. 

Horrible, he must look horrible- Bow tied weird, visibly dizzy, having small traces of ichor spatters from when Dandy killed Scraps, and tears forming in his eyes as he realizes something important.

He doesn’t want to get crushed by Dandy. He wants to get to safety. He wants to look good, and to have off days. He doesn’t want to worry every moment of the day. 

Despite it all, despite how messy he must look and seem, they shout desperately for him to get inside. 

Fifteen seconds. 

Pushing himself forward, Glisten narrowly avoids Dandy’s hand wrenching down, stumbling to his feet. His eyes focus once again, and he bolts, hearing still reeling.

Ten seconds. 

The elevator isn’t far. In fact, turning a corner, it’s right there. He can see the other three. Shelly and Connie motion wildly for him to hurry up, while Rodger’s head snaps to the side, eye widening before pointing frantically at one of the connecting hallways. 

Glisten doesn’t have time to heed the warning before ichor pools beneath him, and a tendril yanks him down. He can feel some of his glass crack as his head makes contact with the floor. Finally, his hearing clears up enough for him to catch the leafy footsteps approaching. 

The tendril is wrapped firmly around his waist, squeezing tighter and tighter. He could feel it digging into him, breaking skin and flesh. It hurts, it hurts so bad, as ichor seeps out of him, and into him. 

Five seconds. 

It's hard to breathe- and then it's impossible to breathe. He strains against the tendril, trying to kick himself free, before switching his efforts to gasping for air. Black dots poke at his vision. 

One second. 

The door closes. 

Glisten can’t do much more than sob as more of the ichor puddle consumes him, a shadow looming over him. He’s barely able to twist his head enough to look over his shoulder, expecting to see Twisted Sprout. 

Dandy, smiling wide as could be, meets him instead. 

“Next time, remember to buy something. Your business is very much appreciated.”

And the thing he can make out are those rainbow talons slamming down onto him, and the sound of glass shattering.

Chapter Text

It is cold, it is quiet, it is lonely. 

Ichor oozes out of his stomach from where the tendril broke skin. 

Actually, the ichor might be the only thing holding his halves together. He isn’t sure. He hasn’t had the strength to look down. 

One of his eyes is gone. Shattered glass is visibly strewn beneath him, now that the puddle has faded away. 

The lights hum above him. One or two have gone out. Sometimes, they all power down. He can’t tell how many times that’s happened, but he’s thankful when it does. It gives the illusion of death.

Right now, they’re bright, buzzing with renewed energy after a particularly long blackout. Was it long? Time wasn’t measurable down here. 

The elevator door doesn’t stay open past thirty seconds. Sometimes thirty five, or even forty, depending on the cards chosen, but the baseline is that it always closes. The Toons can’t keep it open. Those who don’t get there in time are left behind. 

Left behind. 

He was left behind, and now, he was broken. 

Normally, death was ensured by that point. The unlucky Toon who’d been stranded would be chased down by the given twisteds, and was killed eventually. Even if they turn twisted themselves, they would respawn in the lobby, leaving that version of themself to wander the floor. 

This is what he got, for showing his imperfections. 

He got left behind, and he doesn’t even get to be reborn, perfect or not. 

Maybe he should have tried harder to get Dandy to kill him. Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to go on the run. Maybe he should have killed himself in the privacy of his own room. 

Twisteds aren’t conscious beings. Well…as far as they all knew. 

But Glisten was awake. Maybe not fully aware , but he could feel, and he certainly wasn’t back in the lobby like how he should be. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he grasped one of the shelves, leaning his weight against it. His eye focused, and unfocused, staring down at his hands. They were soaked with ichor, trembling. Once his legs steadied, he began to wander, searching for something, anything. Maybe there was a healthkit hidden somewhere. Would that help? Walking takes the edge of the pain very slightly regardless, so it was the obvious next choice to roam around. Twisted Sprouts footsteps seem deafening, but as the two pass by each other, Sprout takes no notice of him

Not even the twisteds bother to look his way. 

He gags. Once, twice, before realizing his mouth was shattered, and then his shaking hands shoot up to his face, feeling at the breaks on his glass with enough carelessness to slice his fingers open. The sharp pain isn’t welcome, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He can literally feel his ugliness. All his worries, fears, anxieties, they’ve all come to life. A nightmare he can’t wake up from.

Pulling his bow off, he shakily wraps it around his wrists. The ribbon presses against the cuts as he ties it, feeling like his hands are on fire, before settling into place. It’s grounding. He can’t hurt himself as easily. He can’t hurt others.

Though, vaguely, there’s an itch at the back of his mind that wants him to hurt the Toons that left him behind, to tear them apart. 

Shaking his head, he frowns. He couldn’t let the ichor think for him. 

The quiet droning of electricity gets louder, fluorescent lights flickering a few times before shutting down entirely, once again. Normally, Toons emit a small glow, lighting up the area around them a couple feet out in any given direction. Twisteds, well, most of them, Brightney is an exception, don’t illuminate anything. 

Glisten’s light is dull, much, much weaker than what it should ever be. 

His feet step in something wet, and cold. He hesitates, before continuing. If he remembered right, the elevator was in this direction. Maybe he could wait by it, see if there was another group coming by soon. He moves into the small room to the right of the elevator, standing by a machine. The ichor drips out, draining out the bottom and getting ready to be extracted again. The green light blinks into red as the last of the ichor goes down the bottom pipe, and he takes an unsure step towards it, slowly placing his hands onto the valve, before trying to turn it. 

After a few seconds, ichor starts to fill the glass. Slowly. Very slowly. His arms feel sluggish, hands slipping off the metal easily. The strength it takes to quickly move the wheel feels impossibly far away, and he misses every skillcheck that pops up.

He isn’t fast, like Goob, Tisha, Flutter, or Pebble. 

He isn’t proficient at skillchecks like Gigi or Shelly. 

He doesn’t have amazing stamina like Scraps or Sprout. 

His stealth is below average, unlike Cosmo, Toodles, Connie or Astro. 

What he is good at is extracting. He’s one of three.

Was. 

What he was good at.

There is nothing he’s good at now. 

He slammed his shoulder against the glass as hard as he could. It didn’t crack, so he tried again, and again, and again, until a large fracture made its way up, spider webbing across the glass. On the next hit, the glass splintered apart, the few inches of ichor that he’d managed to extract dripping down the side of the machine, and pooling on the ground beneath him. 

The light around Glisten grew fainter.

Starting to move out of the room in order to find more machines, he almost immediately slips on the ichor, and can’t catch himself properly due to his restrained hands. The side of his frame hits against the floor painfully. He tenses up, before rolling onto his side and pulling his knees to his chest, curling into a ball. A loud crackle, before the buzzing of a few of the lights weakly flickering back on drowns out his sobbing, for a few seconds. 

Glisten was almost thankful that he lacked the energy to open his eyes. He might accidentally catch a glimpse of himself in the ichor, and, well…

He always was an ugly crier. 

Chapter Text

Rodger was often stressed. Being a detective pursuing the Ichor Operation could be a lot, sometimes, especially when everyone seemed weary of his questions, as if this wasn't as important as it clearly was. He was happy with his job, though, uncovering things was just what he had a passion for, even if it meant traversing down the GardenView elevators, dodging twisted versions of his peers and friends at every turn. Some of the others seem to show concern for his resolve, others just tell him to keep to himself, but what he was doing was necessary. Anything that happens to him along the path to research is just how it is. He’d gotten used to being remade, as painful as it is, so his determination could only grow. 

Well, it had wavered a bit as there was a loud snap, ichor splattering into the elevator and onto his suit as the tendril clamped down around Glisten, seemingly crushing his torso. The door shut, and he had slowly looked down before bringing his sleeve up to wipe some ichor off his glass, blinking a couple of times. 

Now he was back in the lobby, pacing back and forth anxiously, waiting for Glisten to respawn; both to ask a few questions, and see if he was alright. Shelly had gone to her room immediately upon being remade, wringing her hands out uncomfortably whenever she remembered the large splash of ichor staining her dress. Connie hadn’t died yet, it seemed. But Glisten definitely should have by now, so where was he? Rodger had checked his room, all over the lobby, asked around, everything. In the meanwhile, he scribbled down whatever he could concretely remember from that floor. Goob hadn’t wanted to think about it, so Rodger made a note to himself to ask again later. 

“What seems to be on your mind, Rodger? You seem more bothered than usual. An issue with a case?”

Pulling himself out of his thoughts was a voice, and he turned back to see Brightney sorting through her trinkets, looking at him with a concerned expression. He cleared his throat, standing up straighter. 

“I am a tad bothered, yes. Glisten was killed on a run, but he still hasn’t respawned, even though it’s been at least a couple of hours.”

“Oh, that is strange…”

She hummed, tying a Pink Bow borrowed from Poppy around her neck lightly, and slipping a wrench into her pocket, before rechecking what the items should help her with. 

“Are you planning to go back down to look for him? Is it possible he hasn’t actually died yet? I’d be happy to accompany you, I was already planning on going down by myself to collect some research, and to test something out that I was working on.”

Rodger paused, and then began to pace again, staring at the wood floors. 

“I’m not exactly…thrilled to go back down. But I suppose that would be a good idea.”

_____________________

“We can’t go on a run right now. Scraps is still recovering, and we don’t want to leave her alone. (I hope you can understand…) ”

Razzle and Dazzle shut the door, and Rodger sighed, turning and walking away. Five people would have to be enough. He stopped by his room just to grab his own version of Poppy’s Bow, in order to enhance his speed, before returning to the lobby. 

Brightney, Cosmo, Sprout- Rodger was glad Cosmo asked Sprout to come along instead of him, he doubted he could’ve convinced him otherwise -, Boxten, and himself. A well rounded team, even if it wasn’t as many people as he would have liked, they would definitely be able to get to floor seven. He stepped into the elevator with the others, brushing out his shirt with a small frown. His suit had been dirtied, so he was, well, in his sleepwear. The elevator was about to descend, before someone grabbed onto his pant leg. 

“I’m coming with, Mister Rodger!”

Toodles looked much too proud of herself as the door shut before he could ask her to leave, and he had to take a moment to appreciate the slyness, before crossing his arms firmly over his chest. 

“Toodles, this isn’t safe. You know you’re not supposed to go on expeditions last minute like this, especially not one that you’re used to. This isn’t an extraction run, it’s a search.”

She stuck out her tongue, planting her hands firmly on her hips defiantly. 

“I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself!”

He sighed, taking out his journal and adjusting what he had already written down. It was a habit he’d taken to, writing everything out. 

Floor one. A few others and I; Sprout, Cosmo, Boxten, Brightney, Toodles, and myself. Our goal is floor seven, to check it over for Glisten.

Floor two. We finished up the first floor quite quickly, though I expected as much. There wasn’t anything useful on the ground, unfortunately. I bought a can of Pop from Dandy, as I’m not keen on angering him again.

Floor three. A bandage was found and given to Cosmo, as he is our priority healer.

Floor four. Nothing notable. 

Floor five. One of the machines seemed to be finicky, but I was able to extract regardless. 

Floor six. Nothing notable, other than another strange machine.

Floor seven. I am writing this as the door is getting ready to open, and I can hear footsteps. If I’m correct, they are Twisted Sprout’s. This is good for research, but it may cause issues while looking for Glisten.

The lights were out. Brightney lit up the area, racing out and to the left, seemingly towards something, and then there was a sound as the outline of the twisted became clear. Twisted Sprout, as expected, and a vague, messy silhouette that he couldn’t quite place. It went out much faster than the other. Rodger glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, before walking towards it. 

“Rodger! Come help me with this, please.”

He paused, looking back to see Brightney motioning him over. She kneeled by some sort of breaker, trying to pry it open.

“What are you doing?”

“I was thinking about my Twisted, and how she, or, well, I make blackouts more common, and I was wondering how that works. There must be some sort of way she tinkers with the lights, right? So I was reading up on mechanics, and I think I’m confident enough now to try and reverse the lights out, since it doesn’t seem like they’re truly out of power, or broken. I just need assistance in opening this thing up.”

She rapped her knuckles against the box, and he walked over, trying to get a good grip on it. Brightney pulled out her wrench, working it under the lip of the lid carefully, before shoving it down as he yanked back. The door of the breaker opened with a rusty creak, and she pumped her hands excitedly. 

“Thank you! You get on machines now, and I’ll see if this is actually possible.”

Rodger nodded, before wincing at hearing the crack of someone losing a heart, speed walking back towards where he saw the outline. 

The smell of ichor was strong. It was like copper and metal, thick in the air and all consuming. In Mythology, it was what ran in the God’s veins, akin to blood. In GardenView, it signalled danger. A monster transformed by ichor coming near, hungry for more, and ready to tear apart whatever necessary in order to get it. 

Rodger was used to the smell. It dripped from pipes, oozed off of the twisteds he investigated, and exploded out of him whenever he died. But as he stepped past one of the rooms, it was stifling, enough to make him recoil slightly. He leaned back, before forward again, moving inside cautiously. His foot immediately stepped in something wet, and he shuddered, looking down to see a pool of ichor on the ground. He almost yelped, half expecting Twisted Sprout’s tendril to pop out and hurt him, but there was nothing. Turning to the side, he could see the source of it all; a broken machine. 

The glass was smashed, pipe occasionally spurting out more ichor, the red light flashing from time to time. That…wasn’t good. Without all the machines completed, the elevator wouldn’t open. 

He took a step backwards, turning to shout for Brightney, before being promptly wrenched off his feet as a hand grabbed onto his ankle and yanked, sending him sprawling down, landing with an uncomfortable squelch as the ichor caught his fall. He froze in place. The grip was tight, almost hostile, and he was tugged backwards a few inches, before the light coming off of him illuminated far enough. 

“It’s you!- Stay nearby, please…?”

Chapter Text

He wasn’t exactly sure how he could speak without a mouth, but on the other hand, some of the other toons could as well, so it wasn’t all that surprising. His voice was hoarse, practically gravelly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tightening his grasp on the other toon's ankle, he let out a breath of relief upon seeing it was Rodger. 

“It’s you!- Stay nearby, please…?”

It was voiced like a question, but it wasn’t meant as one. He wasn’t going to let someone leave his side this time. Glisten pushed himself forward, moving to clasp onto his friend’s arm instead of his ankle, shifting the bow tied around his wrists slightly. Rodger blinked, just staring at him, analyzing, evaluating, investigating, before finally saying something. 

“Glisten…please let go of me.”

His grip tightened further. Rodger took a small breath, before moving to stand up. Glisten followed on shaky legs, leaning against the wall somewhat to support his weight. 

“Don’t- don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. But I need to talk to Brightney about that broken machine.”

He gave a small nod, walking next to Rodger as he stepped out of the room. It was nice to have  light again; his had gone out entirely a little while ago. As nice as it was to not have to worry about seeing himself, it was unsettling. 

Breaking that machine, had that been a bad idea? Was it going to doom the rest of his friends to be trapped down here with him? He had just been so angry , and honestly, the idea of them not being able to leave him behind again was almost comforting, in a way. They hadn’t chosen to close the elevator, it was automatic, but if the chance was eliminated entirely? The thought was, albeit shamefully, nice.

“Hey Rodger! Is it alright if you help me out with one of the generators, I’m not great on the skill checks, and…and…Glisten?”

Looking to the side, Glisten could see Cosmo moving into view, though visibly keeping his distance from the mirror. He looked him over, before quickly trying to pull out a cookie, in order to trade a heart over. Glisten automatically turned his head away, to feel less seen, less judged.

“Okay, just stay still, and I’ll fix you up…uhm…”

The sound of someone losing a heart echoed out, and Cosmo winced, but there didn’t seem to be any effect. The savory charm on his wrist jingled quietly as he wrung his hands nervously, and Rodger cleared his throat.

“It appears that Glisten has…”

He paused, eye darting to look back at said toon.

“...that you are becoming Twisted, or something adjacent to that. You are aware, at least, which is good, but we should really try to get off this floor soon. So, if I can just talk to Brightney…”

Glisten wiped a bit of ichor off his glass, straightening up to look any amount of presentable possible, tightened his grip on Rodger. Cosmo let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh, before tilting his head.

“Glisten, if you’d like to walk with me, that might be a good idea! Maybe Sprout can heal you? Either way, I probably have to get back to him, so that he can heal me as well now.”

“I think that would be best. I’ll be close by, so if you need me, I’ll come right over, but for now…you should accompany Cosmo.”

He screwed his eye shut, taking a small, raspy breath and shifting his wrists in the restraint, before begrudgingly letting go of Rodger- trying not to think about the red mark he had apparently left, from grabbing him so tightly -and stepping forward to hold onto Cosmo’s shoulder; Said toon braced up for a moment, before making himself relax, and he gave a reassuring smile. 

“Okay! Let’s go!”

Chapter Text

Glisten liked the other toons well enough. There were a couple notable exceptions, but he was fine with the majority of them. At times, he could be a bit jealous of the Main toons, with all the attention they get, yet he would never actually express that. From what he’d seen, they were nice, even if he had only ever really talked to Vee, who helped him to fix his microphone from time to time. Astro gave him good dreams. Shelly was always polite. Pebble risked his life to distract the Twisteds on runs. Sprout was pushy, but meant well, with an incredibly useful ability, even if it wasn’t perfect. He couldn’t fix Twisteds, but Cosmo couldn’t either, so he certainly isn’t at fault. Abilities have ups and downs, that’s just how they are. 

Except for Glisten’s, of course. A bit of dizziness shouldn’t be counted as a flaw. His ability was perfect. 

Perfect. 

Because everything about him was perfect. 

There was no reason for why Cosmo kept his distance as soon as he got the chance to. 

There was no reason for why Sprout looked at him like he’d attack them at any moment, hand on an airhorn to seemingly make sure his attention was on him if he did happen to, instead of on Cosmo. 

Don’t think about it, Glisten.

Don’t think about how at least three Toons have seen you broken, shattered. About how Rodger was probably going to tell Brightney, too. 

Don’t think about how you’re becoming Twisted.

Twisted.

To be Twisted was to be corrupted by ichor. To be hungry for more. To have one’s body mutate and change. To wander the floors forever, chasing down Toons.

Toons.

To be a Toon is to be a more pure form of ichor, once made to entertain the masses, but now to descend the floors and extract even more ichor. A role model, an ally, to a distracter, a support, an extractor, a healer, a survivalist.

A killed Toon should respawn almost immediately, even if the process of being remade can feel hours long for the Toon. Losing your last heart, with the exception of an equipped savoury charm, meant death. He didn’t know why he was still awake, still conscious, at least to some extent. Enough that he could feel the sharp pain along the cracks in his glass, blearily make out his surroundings, speak small sentences; But not enough to understand why the two healers kept their distance, not enough to see how many machines were completed, not enough to realize he was staring not unlike a motionless cat ready to pounce. And certainly not enough to remember that mapping out exactly how to catch up if either of them happened to run wasn’t normal. Eventually, he was surely going to actually die, and when that time comes, he refused for it to happen alone. Someone had to be by his side. In the back of his mind, he doesn’t think he could come back the same if there wasn’t.

He had to come back perfectly, to make up for all this.

“So, Glisten, you don’t need to worry about anything! Once we finish up all the machines, you can come with us in the elevator, and we can try our best to…fix you up!”

Cosmo took a cautious step forward in order to rest a hand on his arm in an attempt to cheer him up, to the apparent dismay of Sprout, who braced up even more as his friend approached. 

“Careful…look, Glisten, we’ll try our best, but you seem…whatever. Yeah, we’ll try to cook up a solution.”

Glisten was pretty sure he managed to nod. Either way, Cosmo clasped his hands together, a quiet, nervous laugh escaping him before speaking.

“Why don’t we walk around, to check up on everyone else? I’m still at one heart, so I can’t heal anyone, but it’s good to check! How many more tapes until you have enough, Sprout?”

“Seventy three. Boxten has needed quite a few heals, since he’s getting used to it all, but it’s still eating at my supply really fast. I already used my veemote, but I haven’t just scavenged around on the floor, so it’s probably good to look. Let’s just…”

He hesitated, eyes moving from Cosmo to Glisten.

“...keep our distance from everyone else. Just in case.”

Glisten nodded again, his head snapping to the side as he heard the sound of a machine being completed, before quickly stepping to stand next to the two Toons. 

“There’s only two generators left, don’t worry. Let’s, uh, let’s go. We jus-ah!”

Cosmo let out a small yelp of surprise, an ear-piercing hiss startling him as the lights crackled back to life once again. Sprout flinched, before glancing around, visibly confused, and Glisten’s hands shot up to hide his face now that the darkness wasn’t there to conceal it. In the distance, someone let out a cheer, and another ding added to the assumed victory. One machine left. 

“Wait, wait, that’s not supposed to…is that what Brightney said she was working on? Woah!”

Holding his hands against his cheeks to support his head, Cosmo looked up at the occasionally flickering lights for a moment, before quickly looking back down and stepping to the side to hide behind one of the boxes with Sprout as the Twisted version of his friend came into view. Glisten didn’t have to move, but still did, walking to sit next to them after a few seconds and being ignored by Twisted Sprout, buried his face into his hands. The Twisted wandered, letting out a gurgle that sounded like an attempt to breathe, before turning around after a moment. 

“Just one left. Let’s look for it.”

“It’s broken.”

Glisten pulled his knees up further, wincing only slightly at how it put pressure on his stomach wound. 

“...what do you mean?”

Sprout frowned a bit, standing up regardless. He pushed a leaf out of his face, brushing off his scarf and retying it. 

“I mean, I broke it. The glass is shattered.”

“Wh…why would you do that?”

Cosmo pushed himself to his feet as well, though shifted uncomfortably when Sprout stiffened up. 

“Does that mean we’re trapped down here? Do we have to throw ourselves at the Twisteds just to get back to the lobby? Seriously, Glisten, what were you thinking?!”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sprout pinched the bridge of where his nose would be. 

“I’m gonna go see if I can help out, if anyone else has found the broken generator yet. C’mon, Cosmo, it’s not safe for you to be here by yourself.”

Said Toon opened his mouth to object, before closing it after a moment of consideration, giving an awkward wave to Glisten.

“We’ll be back in a moment, okay? The Twisteds seem to not chase you, or, well, Twisted…I haven’t seen the second one yet…either way, they don’t seem to take notice of you, so you’ll be safe.”

Listening to the quiet footsteps leaving, he wrapped his arms around his knees, letting his fingers dig into himself. 

Once again, they left him.

Chapter Text

“It’s seriously broken…the elevator won’t open unless all the machines are opened. We’re trapped.”

Brightney frowned at the broken glass, Rodger shutting his eye.

“But…I have an idea.”

The eye reopened, why a shine of curiosity. She continued.

“The broken elevator. It’s blocked off, yeah, but if we can get it open, I may be able to redirect the pipes to power that elevator instead, even with the limited amount of ichor…though I doubt we could get Glisten to go in it. The elevator blocks out Twisteds, remember? You said he’s practically there already, so…”

“He’s the whole reason we came down here, and I already said I wouldn’t leave him. What if he doesn’t respawn? The process is already taking much longer than it should…I can’t just leave him, Brightney.”

She shook her head, looking back at the broken machine. 

“Well, I don’t want to die down here, not this time. If there’s a way to get back up, we have to at least try. This could be a breakthrough. I was already able to get the lights back on, so much more could be possible. I’ll get to work on it…you can situate him. I trust your judgement.” 

The lamp slipped out of the room, walking towards the broken elevator. Rodger stepped out as well, almost bumping straight into Boxten. 

“Rodger! Hey, uh, aren’t there supposed to be two Twisteds? On the same note, is Glisten okay? I know we’re supposed to be looking for him, and, I, well, found him…but he doesn’t seem right…I was gonna approach him, but then I got that weird feeling that happens whenever I get seen by a Twisted, so I kinda, uhm, bolted. Sorry!”

Fidgeting nervously, the crank on the back of his head spun, and he adjusted his glasses. The detective hummed, looking past him.

“It’s alright. There’s been a bit of an issue, though, with the machines. Brightney is going to try and fix it, why don’t you go give her a hand?”

He gave a quick thumbs up, before looking around and starting to walk in the opposite direction that Brightney went, though only got on the right track once he was advised by Rodger. 

Now, what to do?

Chapter Text

Brightney didn’t like her situation. 

She’d been in many bad situations, yes, as a toon with profoundly bad stealth, she was used to getting cornered often and having to make quick get-a-ways. At least she had good stamina. 

However, neither her stamina or impressive extraction speed mattered much when she literally couldn’t leave the floor. It didn’t help that there was a Main, and a Toon whose situation was… strange. She hadn’t ever been the closest person to Glisten, and she wasn’t a detective, but it was still intriguing. Throughout all the books she had read, this hadn’t ever happened. 

But the run wasn’t all lost. She had figured out how to fix the blackout situation, for the time being. When first thought of, she believed that the wrench would break while recalibrating, but in a fortunate twist of fate, it stayed intact. Now, she just had to redirect the ichor to the broken elevator, and she can make it back . The first ever return, it wouldn’t be a one way trip. 

Tapping on her bulb, Brightney cocked her head to shine the faint light onto the control panel she had fiddled with to fix the blackout. Jamming the wrench against one part, she started to crank it, mind going back to an engineering book she had flipped through a while ago. 

“Brightney! Hey, Brightney, uhm… anything I can help you with?”

The nervous turning of his crank, and the uncertainty of his voice giving away who it was. 

“Boxten, hello. Yes, I do believe you can help. Hold this wrench for me, I need to quickly check something. Can you do that?”

He nodded, and kneeled down, taking the wrench from her and gripping it with both hands. 

“I’m going to see if I’m able to redirect the flow of ichor to the broken elevator, which requires me to take a look at the machines, and see their tubes.”

Prancing off, she headed towards the green light of one of the completed machines, giving off a low, content whirring noise. The tube ran up from the top of it, and onto the wall, back in the direction she came, and presumably back to the main elevator. However, she could see a secondary pipe that branched off from the base as well, though it looked considerably more dingy, and didn’t show the almost imperceptible pulse that would normally prove that ichor was flowing through it. She frowned, starting to follow it to the broken elevator- hiding behind a shelf to allow Twisted Sprout to pass by her,- and sighing at the caution tape and wood blocking it off. 

Wringing out her hands, she took a small breath, stretching up as far as she could go and grabbing onto the wooden sign, trying to yank it off, and not succeeding. Her head made it more than a little difficult to peek into tight spaces, but she could almost guarantee it was welded in some way, with the back of the sign being metal. Not ideal. 

She continued to tug, shifting her hold to grab the top of the sign and tugging again, being both surprised and disappointed when she managed to pull herself up, wood staying firm. 

From the higher position, she could spot the tube again, running into the wall next to the elevator, a rusted wheel crank on the underside of it. Bingo. 

If she was correct, that should be the key- twist the crank, maybe mess with the wiring a little more, and pull off all the tape. Then they might just be able to get out. 

Shifting her grip to hold onto the wood with one hand, she used the other to reach as far as she could towards the wheel, and not quite reach it. She reached, and reached, before pushing off the sign and making a grab for it, fingertips barely brushing against the metal before falling with a yelp, hitting the ground right as an unsuspecting Toodles skipped past. 

Thankfully, the girl rolled her dice and got a speed boost right before she got hit with a raining Brightney, twisting to look behind her with a startled noise as the Toon landed. 

“Miss Brightney! Where’d you come from?”

She sat up with a groan, checking that her bulb was intact as the girl flitted around her, talking faster than she should be able to.

“What happened? Are you okay? What were you doing? Oh, I know! Someone stuck you to the ceiling thinking you were an actual lightbulb! How dare they! Alright, don’t worry, I’ll find who it was, just leave it to Detective Toodles!”

Running off before she could get a word in, she grabbed what looked like a magnifying glass out of her dress, giggling like there was no tomorrow. 

Standing up, Brightney sighed, and looked back at the elevator. At least she had figured something out, at the very least.

She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, frowning as the smell of ichor got thicker in the air.